


Even When I Had Nothing

by AnnaFugazzi



Series: Don't Ask, Don't Tell [5]
Category: Captain America
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE ANY SERIOUS TRIGGERS OR SQUICKS, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Secondary Character POV, Steve Feels, WARNING: AUTHOR IS BAD AT TAGS, dub-con, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFugazzi/pseuds/AnnaFugazzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha warned Steve he might not want to pull on that thread, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's not an insult

**Author's Note:**

> This is the post-Captain America 2: The Winter Soldier sequel to Don't Ask.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: I have been told I am very, very bad at tags and warnings. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS if you have triggers or serious squicks, or if you object to characters being put through the wringer, or read fic for fluff and escape. This is NOT the fic for you. My characters do their best, but are pretty messed up, and act accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, Rainne and Aurilly, for beta!

 

"Christ, what a mess," said Tony, dropping down onto the couch next to Pepper and handing her a whiskey. "We've confirmed what Sitwell said, by the way," he said to Natasha. "Bruce _was_ on the HYDRA list."

Natasha sat back and swirled her drink, noting absently that it was funny how she no longer had any problem thinking of Jasper Sitwell as a traitor. Maybe that was one advantage of having had to rehash the tale ad nauseam at the hearings for the last couple of weeks - as well as dealing with all the other revelations about who was rotten at SHIELD.

"Bruce, Stephen Strange, Reed Richards - a lot of people," said Pepper. "Came within seconds of getting them, too."

Bruce nodded grimly, fingers tight around his glass. Pepper gave him a worried glance.

"And using tech _I_ gave them, the bastards," Tony muttered. He shook his head and took a sip of his drink. "I'm a little insulted that I wasn't on it too, to be honest. And I still can't quite believe Sitwell was rotten. Though finding out about my best friend in the Senate was a pleasant surprise." He gave Natasha a wry grin. "So. You've given the finger to the powers that be, you've destroyed a pretty serious amount of property, and SHIELD is in shambles." He glanced around at the gathered group. "I'd say the Avengers Initiative as we know it is done for. What now?"

"Don't think there's a big change for you two," said Clint, perched on the arm of Natasha's chair and nodding at Tony and Bruce. "Not like SHIELD was your permanent gig. It's me, Natasha and Steve who are screwed on the careers front."

"You know Maria Hill's already taken us up on the offer of a job at SI," Pepper pointed out. "The rest of you can certainly—"

"Clint and I will be fine," said Natasha. It wasn't like they were hard up for cash, after all. And they had HYDRA rats to help Fury track down, and an agency to help build back, if such a thing was possible. All sorts of things to do. "We'll let you know if we need your help."

"Cap?" asked Tony. "Any solid plans for the future yet? Or is the plan still to go after Barnes, like Natasha said?"

"That's still the plan," said Steve.

"You and flyboy here?" Tony asked, glancing at Sam, who nodded.

Natasha pursed her lips. “I told you that you might not want to unravel that thread.”

"I have to."

Tony exchanged a glance with Bruce, then leaned forward. "Listen, Rogers," he began, then paused. "Steve, I... I get that you have an overdeveloped sense of duty and all, but I think there might be bigger problems going on right now than trying to track down one old friend who--"

"I have to,” Steve said through a clenched jaw. He put his untasted drink on the coffee table beside him.

Tony frowned, then turned to Sam. "Can't you talk sense into him?"

Sam shook his head. "Probably not. Haven't tried real hard."

“Steve, there are a few things you need to think about,” Natasha said. “Your friend probably doesn't have a command structure right now. That could be devastating - and dangerous for somebody like him."

"Doesn't that mean that he needs to be found, before he does any harm?"

"He's already done plenty of harm, Steve," Clint said bluntly.

"More harm, I mean."

"Are you really the best person to track him down though?" asked Clint. "And take him in? He's your friend. That's gonna affect how you think of him. It already has."

"The other possibility is that he may be harmless," said Natasha. Steve narrowed his eyes at her and she had the distinct impression that he thought she was full of shit and was too polite to say so. "Without somebody to give him orders, he could just be wandering around."

"And you know what else is going on right now with SHIELD, and how serious it is," said Clint. "We could use your help."

"Either way, the authorities will be looking for him,” Bruce pointed out. "It's not like you're the only one who's gonna want to find him."

"You know, HYDRA may be looking for him too," said Tony. "Whoever's left of them—if they haven't found him already. He's a weapon, and they lost a lot of them recently."

"I've thought of that.” Steve stood up, nervous energy radiating off of him. 

Natasha winced in sympathy. Not that she really thought any of them had a chance talking him out of going after the Winter Soldier, but they had to make the effort—an effort that couldn't be easy for Steve to listen to.

"Getting between HYDRA and what they want hasn't done wonders for your health so far," Tony continued. "Don't get me wrong, we're all glad you did it - especially Bruce and all the other targets on that list—but... for one guy?"

Steve faced them all squarely, and Natasha could see the stubbornness that was such an integral part of him stiffening his spine. “You're telling me Bucky may be very harmful because he's disoriented, and it'll be dangerous for me to try to find him because I'm too involved. Or he may be harmless and there's no need to waste time trying to find him. Or the remnants of HYDRA will be trying to get him, which makes it even more dangerous for me to get him."

There were general nods all around.

"All of which are reasons why I have to go," said Steve flatly. "If he's a loose cannon, somebody needs to find him, and I don't want it to be people who want to just... put him down. If he's disoriented and harmless, it's even more important that he be found by someone who gives a damn whether he lives or dies." Steve swallowed. "And if HYDRA's looking for him, we have to get him first."

"You keep saying 'we' but you mean 'me,'" said Tony grimly. "I just don't think you're the best choice to do this. You're too close, you still see him as your good buddy. He's not that any more."

"I don't think we know what he is any more," said Steve quietly.

Clint spoke up. "If he's on autopilot and there's nothing left of who he used to be, I can tell you one thing. The man he was would want you to put him down before he hurts anybody else."

Natasha swallowed and reached over to entwine her fingers with Clint's.

Clint squeezed her fingers gently, but didn't meet her gaze. “Living with what he did will be hell. You sure you wanna wish that on him?"

Steve took a deep breath.

"He's not wrong about that, Steve," Sam said. "Even if you get him back, even if you can contain him, it may not be possible for him to ever be who he used to be."

"Did you read the file on him?" Natasha asked Sam.

Sam nodded. "We both did. Bucky was tortured. His mind was wiped. He was used as a weapon." He gazed at Steve, his eyes full of compassion. "You don't just walk back from that, Steve. He's not gonna be the good buddy you knew."

Steve's Adam's apple bobbed. "I know." He shook his head. "I can't - I know what was done to him. And I know he may not be able to recover. But I can't... I can't leave him that way."

"How close were you, before?" asked Tony. Steve's eyebrows went up. "Yeah, I know what the Smithsonian says, but I also know how PR works. Were you really friends?"

“He was my best friend,” he said stiffly.

"Not one of those 'we just happened to grow up together, never could stand the guy, but it's good for the Cap image' things?"

Steve scowled. "No. Why would you think—"

Tony held up his hands. "Hey, I've seen what spin doctors can do when you give them free rein. And you were both gone and ripe for becoming the stuff of patriotic legend."

"He was my best friend," Steve repeated firmly. "And he deserves better than to be hunted down like a rabid dog.”

"If he was your best friend, you want what's best for him," said Clint. "You want to protect him, right? Well, the best way to protect him may mean letting other people find him. Wilson's right. That kind of trauma... your pal may not be able to survive it, even if you can save his life. Someone who's not you might just want to put him down, and that might be the best thing for him."

"I can't accept that."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about, dude," Clint said, his voice grim. "Do you know how many lives I was responsible for?"

“I… I know—"

"Some days I'm still not sure Nat made the right call with me, Steve," he said, and Natasha wondered if the rest of them could hear the pain behind those words. "And it's been a couple years."

" _I'm_ sure she made the right call. And I wanna make that call for Bucky." Steve swallowed. "He was a hero. He deserves... everything. He deserves anything I can give him."

Clint blew out his breath and looked at Sam. "Have you even tried to talk him out of this?"

Sam chuckled. "Nope. I know better."

Natasha let go of Clint's hand and sat back, giving up. Well, it had been a long shot anyway. "All right. It's your decision. You're going to do what you think is right, no matter what."

"Pretty much," Steve said, giving her a small smile.

"It's what people admire about you," she said, and smiled back at him.

There was a small pause.

"You know, on the plus side, this'll make the fangirls wet themselves, if they ever find out,” Tony said with a smirk.

Clint snorted. Bruce rolled his eyes.

"The what?” Steve asked.

"The fangirls," said Tony. "There's a slightly disturbed sector of society that's pretty obsessed with you—with all of us, really."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Celebrity culture. Right."

"Well, a bunch of your personal fangirls are pretty obsessed with your past. You and Bucky, your best friend. All sorts of theories that your friendship was... closer than anybody knew.”

Steve blinked, confused. “Closer?”

"You know, more than brotherly? The love that dared not speak its name?" Steve's face went blank and Tony snickered. "You should really patent that look of ‘Your Century Baffles Me’.” He leaned forward. "They think you were having sex," he said clearly and slowly. "As in, with each other."

Steve stared at him.

"Oh, relax, Cap, it's just for fun—“ Tony began, and Pepper put a hand on his, cutting him off.

“Tony, now isn’t the time,” she said impatiently. “Steve, they don't mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, no,” said Tony. “It’s just... subversion of traditional masculine archetypes or something. Hell, there are a lot of fangirls who think _we're_ doing the deed."

Pepper elbowed him and Steve's mouth dropped open. Natasha suppressed a snicker.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Wow, I think he just got paler. I'm gonna take the opportunity to feel insulted. It might be a good idea _not_ to tell anyone how shocked and appalled you are at their modern lack of morals; most of them just think you're hot, and wanna think about you with another hot guy. It's not a big deal.”

Steve sat back down unsteadily.

"Are you all right?" asked Clint, hiding a bit of a smirk.

"They talk about this for fun? They think it's... sexy?"

"It's just a joke, Cap."

"A joke?"

"Come on, it's not an insult—" Tony began, rolling his eyes.

"It's not an insult," Steve interrupted, his voice tight. "But it's not a joke, either."

"Are you all right?" Natasha said, feeling a slight pang of alarm at Steve's ashen face.

Steve met her gaze and she sat up slightly, uneasy. His eyes were wide and haunted, and she exchanged a puzzled glance with Sam.

"Do you know what happened to soldiers in my time when they were... together, like that?" Steve asked, his voice hushed.

"They were kicked out?" said Clint. "Steve, nobody really thinks—“

"It was called a blue discharge," said Steve. "It went on your permanent record; everyone knew what it meant. You could never hold your head up again; you were a pervert, couldn't say you'd been in the army, couldn't say..." he trailed off. Natasha's brows drew together. No, hang on, he couldn't mean... "We were together. Me and Bucky," Steve said, and the room went absolutely still.

Sam finally broke the silence. "Um." He cleared his throat. "You mean..."

"For ten years, since we were kids. And when the army found out, they didn't think it was cute or sexy or fun to talk about. They—“ he swallowed, putting a hand on his eyes.

"Steve," Natasha whispered, shock swiftly giving way to a sick feeling in her stomach. God, outed in the US Army, during the War - Steve's jaw worked for a moment, and then he went on.

"He - we were arrested, and they put him in _handcuffs_ , fucking handcuffs," said Steve, and his voice was hoarse. Tony looked horrified now, and Clint's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Handcuffs, for loving me. It wasn't cute. It wasn’t—“ his voice broke.

"Steve," Natasha repeated, and had no idea what else to say, and Clint's hand stole into hers again. Jesus Christ. She squeezed his fingers, appalled, watching Steve's tightly controlled body language, his pain almost palpable around him.

Bruce shook his head, his own features paler. "I... we had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Steve shook his head again. "It - it's not, it's not funny. It's not. You have no idea." He lowered his hands and stared at the floor, lips pressed together.

"How did - wait, how come none of this is anywhere?" asked Clint. "SHIELD has records of _everything_ about you. How did we not know this?"

"We all agreed to never tell anyone," said Steve dully. "I tried to resign, but Colonel Phillips, he said they couldn't afford to let me - and he forced the Commandos to keep it quiet. Me and Bucky had to promise to never - and the men, they..." suddenly Steve swallowed and his eyes filled with tears. "We - we had to stay away from each other, like we hadn't tried over and over and over again--" he blinked rapidly. "We had to - we'd tried so fucking hard, before, to..." He took a deep, shaking breath.

 _Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,_ he'd said, Natasha recalled. Damn it. She'd thought he meant childhood friendship, brotherhood - she'd never suspected anything like this.

"You'd tried to stay apart?" asked Pepper. "Why?"

Steve gave a short shaky laugh. "I loved him," he said, his voice soft. "I loved him too much to just let him be gossiped about, or beaten up, or looked down on. Or have him be single all his life. He deserved - he deserved everything I couldn't give him. A family, respect--" he cleared his throat. "And after the men knew, at first it was everything I'd ever been afraid of. But then... then after a while Bucky started to talk about maybe not hiding any more. Actually staying together, after the War. And then... then he was gone." He swallowed and a tear spilled over. He wiped it away impatiently. "I have to find him. I have to try to help him."

"Of course you do," said Bruce. "What can we do?"

Steve blinked.

"You're gonna need a place to bring him, after you find him," said Clint. "You can't let SHIELD get their hands on him - or the Armed Forces, if they keep taking over all SHIELD operations."

Natasha shuddered. "They'll want to extract every piece of information they can from him. And that's assuming it's SHIELD or the Armed Forces in charge and not HYDRA."

"Bring him here," said Tony, and Pepper nodded, and Natasha noted her own eyes were a little red. "We can set up something, some kind of secure facility in the Tower. Nobody but us will know he's here."

"He's probably gonna need massive amounts of therapy," said Sam. "Stark, you got people you trust? Like, really good shrinks?"

"We have a few, on staff," said Pepper. "I'll go over their files myself and find some we can trust."

"I have some contacts too," said Natasha. "Some people who can help deprogram. I'll look over his file, see what we might need. A lot of what he does is unreal; he's probably had a combination of chemical, implants, conditioning..." she frowned, her mind racing. What would be left of the man Steve had known and loved? How would Steve, still so pure and moral despite everything he'd seen, deal with what they'd find? How would--

No. Time for that _after_ they found Barnes.

"Do you mind if I read over his file too?" asked Bruce.

Steve stared at them all. "What... what are you talking about?" He wiped his eyes impatiently. "Why are you..."

"We're going to help," said Clint.

"But - why?"

Tony and Pepper blinked at him, confused.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"You were all telling me why I should leave this to somebody else—”

"Steve. Dude." Tony leaned toward him. "Listen, it's a little different thean thinking you're going to go self-sacrificing for some guy you knew out of a sense of obligation or whatever. I thought he was just... you know, your army buddy. Who's a little brainwashed-assassiny right now, and you were maybe doing some guilt trip where you think it's your fault one of your men was left behind or, something army, I dunno." He paused. "This is different. This is... this is your childhood sweetheart we're talking about." Steve's eyes widened and his mouth silently repeated _childhood sweetheart._ "Your other half, and all that. I know if it was Pepper..." he trailed off, glancing at Pepper, his gaze softening momentarily. "I wouldn't stop until I found her and she was OK. You won't either."

Steve crossed his arms. ”What about ‘we've got bigger responsibilities?'"

"We do," Natasha agreed. "And we're going to do something about them. But you won't be able to help us until he's all right, so we might as well help you, so you can join us as soon as possible."

Steve stood up again and glanced around at the group. He opened his mouth, then closed it and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Sam spoke up. "Steve... are you all right?"

Steve shrugged helplessly and paused, seeming to reach for words. "Uh... disoriented," he finally said, his voice low. "I - I know things aren't the same now. But." He swallowed and glanced over the group again. "This is so different. People finding out and offering _more_ help, not less, because we're - because we were together."

"Well, welcome to the 21st century then," said Tony dismissively. "A lot's changed. Hopefully you can find him and get him un-assassined and you can live happily ever after. Might even be able to make an honest man out of him; New York's got gay marriage now, in case you didn't get that memo."

Steve's mouth fell open. "I - that's not, I'm _not_ looking for him because of - he doesn't even know me." He paused. "He almost killed me. Twice."

"There's _something_ there," said Natasha. "He remembered something. He knew you enough to pull you out of the water."

Steve nodded doubtfully.

"All right." Sam put down his drink and stood up, approaching Steve and clapping him on the shoulder. "What are we waiting for? Let's get to work, and figure out how to find your guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repeating the warning from above: if you read fics for fluff, _please_ stop reading this one now.


	2. I don't care if it's selfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, Aurilly and Tina! Awesome beta :)

"I can't believe it," said Clint, striding into the room, his eyes immediately going to the observation window where Bruce was testing the restraints on the unconscious Winter Soldier. "Jesus, finally." He turned to Sam and Steve. "So how did you catch him?"

"We didn't," said Sam, his manner a mixture of puzzled, bothered and relieved, and Natasha could sympathize.

Chasing after ghosts and vague rumors for months, all of them contributing what they could in terms of possible sightings from automatic surveillance and supposed HYDRA boltholes, places the Winter Soldier might have gone to ground... and suddenly the thrill of the chase destroyed by their quarry just about walking up to them and handing himself in.

Not that Steve seemed to mind that. Not that Steve seemed to mind anything right now as he stood in front of the observation window, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the dark-haired man who was shackled to the bed, sleeping off a massive shock.

"Steve was searching the warehouse," said Sam. "I flew over the roof to see if there were any signs and there he was. Didn't look surprised or anything. Like he knew we were coming."

"He probably did," said Natasha.

"But he's been running all this time. Hiding. Why show himself now?" Sam's frustration was evident. "Natasha, he just stood there, gun down till I drew mine - and he wasn't even trying. He could've gotten off good shots instead of a couple of pathetic wing dings before I stunned him."

"There comes a time when you just get tired," said Natasha. "You want to rest. You don't really care what happens after you're captured."

Clint touched her hand gently.

"Yeah, well he would've known Steve would capture him, not kill him," said Sam. "Steve refused to even defend himself when Barnes was trying to kill him. But me?"

"When you're tired enough you don't much care whether you survive, Sam," Natasha said. Clint pulled her close and Natasha knew he was thinking the same thing. How she'd gotten sloppy too, at the end, when he was hunting her, no longer caring to live or die. How she'd let him get the drop on her, let him bring her in to SHIELD, not knowing what would happen to her but knowing it had to be better than what she was living with.

"Has he said anything?" asked Clint.

Sam shook his head. "He's been sedated the whole time. We brought him back here, wanted him in a secure environment when he woke up. You know what happened in the past when he didn't want to be confined."

Natasha smiled grimly. The Winter Soldier had been captured by a splinter group of Ten Rings once in the eighties; the devastation had been impressive and the legend had reached mythical proportions. Nobody had been eager to try to capture him since. She, Tony and Bruce had spent some time figuring out adequate restraining, sedation and observation devices for transportation and long-term housing.

"Has _he_ said anything?" Clint asked softly, nodding at Steve. Sam shook his head.

Steve glanced over his shoulder. " _He's_ right here," he said irritably. He turned back to the window. "We've got him sedated, but that should be wearing off in the next hour or so. Bruce will oversee his waking up."

"Will you be in there?" asked Clint.

"We don't know if that'll be helpful," said Steve. "It would be different if he'd seen me before being stunned. I don't know how much he remembers about me; it might be counter-productive to have me there. Distracting, if he doesn't know where he knows me from." He turned to Sam. "You should probably go in there; he gave himself up to you, so it might be reassuring to him to see you. Then again, if he knows I've been partnered with you..." he frowned thoughtfully.

Natasha spoke up. "You should go in for a few minutes after Bruce has established a rapport. _If_ Bruce can establish rapport. Stay five minutes, answer any questions, then leave."

"I'll let him know nobody's trying to trick him into thinking I'm not here, but let him know his presence here doesn't depend on him doing anything about it."

Sam nodded, and Clint and Natasha traded a glance at the detached, unemotional tone of Steve's voice. He might have been discussing the best way to get surveillance, or storm a HYDRA base. She'd had a number of these talks with him over intelligence reports about Barnes's whereabouts, as they discussed therapists to deal with what she'd found in Barnes's files, and his manner had been the same... but somehow she'd expected him to get a little more animated when they actually found Barnes himself.

Bruce came out of the room.

"He should be up in the next hour or so," he told Steve. "That 'night-night' stun-gun you used is powerful, but his vital signs are coming around. I'm patterning his physical responses on yours and mine, since we're both recipients of versions of the Serum. It's pretty imprecise, though; we don't really know enough about him."

"No, we don't." Steve frowned. "Wish we did. The reports said he's likely to be fighting for consciousness more than normal. Did you factor that in?"

"Yes, we did."

Steve looked back into the room. "How's his physical state?"

"Well, he's malnourished and shows signs of exhaustion," said Bruce. "Otherwise he's healthy. He's also been grooming himself, but his teeth, nails, hair, all point to some difficulty with regular access to anything luxurious in terms of facilities. I'd guess he hasn't been staying at spas, but neither has he been sleeping in dumpsters. Probably low-end motels. Without speaking to him, no idea whether he's been in contact with HYDRA or not."

"That's our first priority: find out if he's still in contact with them," said Steve. "Find out whether he really did basically give himself up. Try to figure out what he wants." He gazed at Barnes thoughtfully. "We need to let him know that we're not going to hand him over to HYDRA, but if he's still with them he's not going to betray us to them either. If he's lucid enough, we should also let him know he's confined here, for his own good and our own. We don't want to make him feel like we're hiding anything."

"Oh - shit. Here we go," said Sam, as the man in the other room stirred. Bruce walked back in, sat down on the stool near the bed, and waited.

"Where am I?" was the first thing that Barnes asked. He rattled his hand in the cuffs, but testing, not trying to break. He seemed more curious than anything else.

"You're being held in a secure facility in New York City."

"SHIELD?"

"No. Stark Tower."

"Stark? Tony Stark?"

Bruce nodded. "You're restrained because we don't know enough about your conditioning, or whatever was done to you by HYDRA. Once we're sure you won't hurt us, you'll be released."

Barnes nodded calmly. "Hurt you, personally?"

Bruce gave him a small, grim smile. "You can't hurt me. I'll explain why later. We're more worried about you hurting yourself, or getting out and hurting civilians. We've read what was done to you. We know you can get yourself out of just about any confinement, kill somebody with a ballpoint pen, and probably have a number of tricks up your sleeve we don't know about. We're counting on you wanting to be here."

"Why would I want to be here?" asked Barnes.

"Because you gave yourself up," said Bruce.

Barnes's eyes narrowed. "That's debatable."

"He's coherent," Steve commented. "I wasn't sure we could expect that."

"We're the good guys," Bruce was saying. "We're not SHIELD, we're not HYDRA. We have no agenda other than helping you, and keeping you and the public safe from anyone who's trying to find you." He paused. "Is anyone trying to find you?"

"I don't know. None of my handlers showed up. They usually do, if I fail."

"Have you failed before?"

"Not failed my mission, just... malfunctioned." Clint made a small sound in his throat and Natasha wondered what the hell that meant. Barnes glanced around the room, spotting the large one-way mirror. "Who are you?" he asked Bruce, not taking his eyes off the mirror.

"Bruce Banner. I'm a doctor. I work with Tony."

"Who else is here? The guy with the wings?"

"Yes."

"Who else?" asked Barnes, his voice tense.

"Steve Rogers," said Bruce. Barnes nodded. Bruce hesitated, then leaned forward. "Does that name ring a bell?"

"He was my last target," said Barnes calmly. "I failed to kill him."

"You saved his life."

"That's debatable. The Serum might have saved his life. Or the pararescuers."

"But you pulled him out of the water."

Barnes shrugged, eyes still glued to the mirror.

"Do you know who he is?" asked Bruce. "Other than your last target?"

"I saw the Smithsonian exhibit," said Barnes.

"So you know who you are, then."

"I know that was my face on that display. James Barnes."

"Was any of what you saw familiar?"

"No."

Natasha glanced at Steve, who was staring impassively at the window. His jaw flexed slightly and he pressed his lips together, and she tried to imagine what that had to feel like. His lover of ten years, whom he'd mourned and then sought all over the world... still didn't remember a thing.

They'd known it would be possible, of course. Even likely.

It didn't help.

"Do you want to see the man with the wings?" asked Bruce. "Or Steve?"

"Can I see Rogers?" asked Barnes.

Steve took a deep breath, looking nervous for the first time since this had begun, and entered the room without hesitation.

Natasha tensed as Barnes turned to meet Steve, raking eyes over him, his hands relaxed in the shackles. Mild curiosity and puzzlement were all she could read in him - no hostility at least. Steve held his gaze, his face so carefully blank it was hard to get any kind of read off him.

"Didn't know if I'd see you," Barnes said finally.

Steve swallowed. "Did you want to see me?" he asked, his voice low and tightly controlled.

Barnes shrugged. "I was curious."

"Did you turn yourself in on purpose?" asked Steve.

"Not sure. Didn't really feel like it at the time." Barnes examined Steve. "Are you gonna hand me over to anybody?"

Steve shook his head. "We're going to keep you here. You're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you here."

Barnes's eyebrow went up. "Wasn't worried about that." He glanced at his wrists and ankles. "How long are you gonna keep the shackles on?"

"We're not sure," said Steve. "Not long. Tony - Stark - has outfitted a floor for you upstairs. It's a little bare bones - we know you've been trained to make weapons out of just about anything - but we'd like to keep you comfortable if possible."

Barnes nodded. "And I'm here until... when?"

"We don't know that either," said Bruce. "You must know people are looking for you."

Barnes nodded. "Yeah," he said indifferently. "And I know most of them aren't gonna be concerned with keeping me comfortable."

"You're also dehydrated and undernourished," said Bruce. "We'd like to fix that."

Barnes nodded.

Clint crossed his arms. "You know, it's funny, if Steve hadn't said this was his one-and-only that he watched die and then spent the last four months chasing down to the ends of the earth... I'd swear I'm watching a SHIELD debrief here."

"He's been like this from the beginning," Sam agreed. "Like it's just an important assignment."

"It's not," said Natasha. Steve was keeping it together, yes, but she'd seen him relaxed and focused on a mission, and she'd seen him angry and tense. He wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time. This was different. It was like he was shut down.

He was also exhausted, she suddenly realized. She could read the line of tension in his shoulders, his movements strained and lacking his normal grace.

"When was the last time he slept?" she asked.

"Got up early around five in the morning when we got the tip on Barnes," said Sam, and Natasha glanced at the wall. Two in the morning.

"He can go for longer," said Clint absently. "You know that."

Natasha nodded, focussing on the three men in the room again.

"What do you want us to call you?" Bruce was asking. Steve tensed minutely.

Barnes shrugged. "I don't usually need a name. Winter Soldier in Russian was my code name. Don't suppose I need it any more." He glanced at Steve. "Eric Branson's the name I have on my current fake ID. It's as good as any."

"You don't want to go by your original name?" asked Steve, his voice tight.

"James Barnes?" He shrugged again. "Doesn't matter. If that makes things simpler, fine."

"What do _you_ want?" asked Steve.

"Barnes is fine," said Barnes.

"Do you have any other questions for me?" Steve asked.

"No," said Barnes.

Steve nodded. "I'll leave you to Bruce, then," he said. He came back to the observation room, closing the door from Barnes's room just as the other door opened and Tony rushed in.

"Holy shit I thought JARVIS was kidding," he murmured, giving them all a distracted wave and moving straight to the one-way mirror. "Can't believe you actually found him. Finally."

"Yeah," said Steve, picking up the tablet that held their notes on Barnes.

Tony watched Bruce talking quietly to Barnes. "So... how is he?"

"He's going to be all right, physically," said Steve. "Gonna need proper nutrition and medical care, but he seems to be in good health, physically. Better than we'd hoped, anyway, considering. Mentally it may be another story, but it's encouraging so far." He scanned over a report and Natasha could see he wasn't really registering. "He's lucid, and seems to be taking the confinement in stride. Again, better than we expected." He glanced at Natasha. "Then again, it may have to do with some of what's in his file, and what you talked about with the Red Room, the conditioning he went through. It could be an act."

Natasha nodded.

"How are you?" asked Tony cautiously.

Steve glanced at him. "Fine. Relieved. I'm glad we got him before HYDRA did. Or the police. Though according to what Natasha's said, I guess the hard part starts now." He turned back to the file.

"Hey." Tony waited for Steve to acknowledge him, then shrugged and continued when it became clear that he wouldn't. "This... this is your guy in there. It's OK to be happy. Or sad, or upset." He paused. "Or... something."

"Thanks," said Steve absently, still looking over the reports.

Tony exchanged a glance with Natasha. 

"Did you contact the therapists?" she asked.

"I called them. Well - Pepper did. They'll be here in the morning."

Bruce tapped on the window, and signaled for Steve to come back into the room.

"Yes?"

"Rogers," said Barnes, almost as if he didn't want to.

Steve stiffened slightly. "Yes?"

Barnes licked his lips. "I remember you," he said calmly. "Sort of."

Steve paled, but nodded.

"And I looked stuff up on the Internet, and at the Smithsonian."

"You did?"

"I knew I knew you. They told me you were just my target, but I remembered. That's why they wiped me the last time, because I remembered."

"I'm sorry," Steve said cautiously. _Wiped._ Natasha had read about that in his file. Barnes seemed to remember inconvenient things sometimes; got erratic, and had to be erased. Apparently it involved a fair amount of pain.

"Are you gonna be involved in whatever it is they're going to do with me?" Barnes asked, not acknowledging Steve's apology.

"I was planning on it," said Steve.

Barnes nodded. "I'd rather you weren't."

Steve blinked.

"Oh shit," muttered Clint.

"What?"

Barnes shrugged. "I don't know how much they wiped or how whether it'll come back at all. I do know that you're not a shrink, and you're not a doctor. You're just some guy who knew me a long time ago, and you have a reputation for getting too involved in what you shouldn't." He sounded like he'd rehearsed his lines. "Thanks for looking for me. I understand that you thought you were under some sort of obligation. But you've done your duty." He paused. "I'll look you up once I'm all right, if that ever happens."

Steve looked off-balance. "I... I want to be here."

"You don't need to be. And I'd rather you weren't."

Steve swallowed. "Why?"

Barnes narrowed his eyes. "You nearly let me kill you. I'm a little confused right now, but I do know that I want to figure things out, and that'll be difficult if you're around. And you've probably got an agenda, want to get your army buddy back. I'm not him."

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. If it'll be better for you."

"Not sure about the 'better for me' part," said Barnes indifferently. "But I'm pretty sure it's for the best overall."

Steve frowned. "Why?"

"You refused to kill me; I refuse to let you waste your time with me."

Steve's mouth opened, then closed. "Wait. You want to do this for me?"

"Sure. One good turn deserves another, right?"

Steve nodded, looking shaken. "Right." He nodded again, then cleared his throat, shifting his feet.

"Steve?" Bruce said quietly.

Steve was blinking rapidly, and Natasha noticed his hands were trembling. He bit his lip. "Um. Bucky." He cleared his throat again. "James. Don't. Please - please don't do that. Uh, send me away, that is."

Barnes's eyebrows rose. "Why not?"

"I - I want to help you--"

"I really don't remember much," Barnes pointed out. "I may not remember very much more, ever. I was wiped down a bunch of times during my training. And after."

Natasha swallowed. Damn it, as much as she normally felt pretty much at peace with her past, having Barnes here was doing all sorts of things to her equanimity. "You remember your training?" Bruce asked.

"Not a lot of it. But I don't really remember you," he said to Steve indifferently. "I'm grateful to you for not killing me when we were fighting, and for... this," he gestured around him, "if it's really supposed to be to help me. But I can't pay you back for anything."

Steve shook his head. "I - you don't have to pay me back. For anything. Bucky, I'm the reason you were lost in the first place. Anything I can do--"

"You already did," said Barnes. "You let me live and you set this up. Your debt's paid; you don't owe me anything."

"This isn't about _owing_ you--" Steve stopped. He pressed his lips together, and now Natasha could see that he was trembling. "Bucky--"

"I'm not Bucky."

"James, then." Steve took a deep breath.

"I'm not your friend, whoever he was," Barnes continued. "And you don't need to hang around waiting for me to turn into him--"

"James." Steve paused for a long moment. "Please let me be here." He briefly closed his eyes, evidently carefully thinking his next words. "I - you were my best friend," he told Barnes, keeping his tone steady, but his fists were clenched tight. "My whole life. You - I know you don't remember. You might never remember, and that's fine. If you never do, if you get better and you're stable and you can be allowed out of here and you decide you never want to see any of us again, that's fine." He voice shook slightly and he paused, his control beginning to slip. "We're helping you because you deserve help. You don't owe any of us here anything. You don't owe it to us to become who you were, or to remember anything, or do anything you don't want to do." He took another deep breath. "I'm not here because I want anything from you. But," his voice broke. He stopped again, and gathered himself. "You - you weren't just some guy I used to know," he said softly. "You were my best friend. You were..."

Natasha stepped to the door, and Clint gently put a hand on her arm.

"He's going to screw this up--" she began.

"Maybe. Let him."

"Barnes doesn't need to hear this."

"Maybe Steve needs to say it," said Sam.

In the room, Steve had composed himself slightly.

"We really were best friends?" Barnes asked slowly. "That wasn't just the Smithsonian?"

Steve shook his head. "We were best friends since we were kids," he said. "We were orphans, grew up together. You were the only family I had. You took care of me when I had nobody else. You were my hero." His eyes filled with tears and he held Barnes' gaze. "You went to war and got captured by HYDRA and I moved heaven and earth to rescue you. I was told you were dead, and I went against orders to rescue you anyway. You're the whole reason Captain America was anything other than a guy in tights selling war bonds. I did it for you." He took another deep breath. "And when you - you died, losing you was like losing part of me. I died days later and it was fine, I didn't care; I'd already felt dead without you."

Natasha held her breath. This wasn't the right time to tell the Winter Soldier that they'd been lovers, but Steve wasn't stopping, his voice shaking with suppressed grief and tension.

"I woke up in this world and it would've been better to stay dead, because you were gone. B- James. I know you don't remember. But don't - don't send me away. Please don't - if you feel you owe me anything at all, please - pay me back by letting me stay." A tear had spilled over now and Steve wiped it away. "Please, I..."

Barnes was gazing at him curiously. "All right," he finally said.

Steve nodded quickly, letting out his breath and staring at the floor for a moment before backing up and leaving the room. He closed the door and leaned his back against it, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head bowed.

In the other room, Bruce was approaching Barnes again and speaking to him quietly about therapy, and asking if he wanted to read his own file. Natasha ignored them both, as Steve took one deep breath after another, eyes closed and fighting for calm.

"Uh... you OK, there, big guy?" asked Tony gently.

Steve put a hand to his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out. "N-no."

Natasha came closer. "No, you're not."

Steve put his hand down and met her gaze, his eyes swimming with tears and his voice unsteady. "You don't understand. He - after he died, I wanted to die too. And I - I know that's not him in there, but." He shivered.

"You have to consider what he said, though," said Natasha gently. "Won't it be worse, knowing that's not really him? Knowing that he can't come back?"

"I don't care." The tears spilled over now and Steve made no attempt to stop them. "I don't care. That's... that's _Bucky_ in there. I - after I was woken up, all I could think was that he wasn't there and he'd never be there again. That I'd loved him with everything I had and he was seventy years gone." He was shaking now, his words coming faster. "I lived without him, knowing he was dead, for just a few days, back in '45, and taking that plane down was a relief, not a sacrifice."

Natasha stepped closer and put a hand on his arm, hesitating before gently tugging on him, slightly startled as he let out his breath and drew her into his arms, his head on her shoulder.

As many times as they'd worked together, as close as they'd become, they weren't like this. Physical closeness was something she only ever did with Clint. But the rock-solid rigidity in Steve's body seemed to be loosening.

Steve clenched his eyes shut, a sob escaping from his throat, and Natasha almost felt like her small frame was holding up his large one. It always startled her a little, how big he was; he didn't look intimidating.

"I can't - I can't lose him again," he murmured his voice rough. "It's always been one of us sending the other away, and I can't do it any more." His breath shuddered and he held her tightly. "I don't care if it's selfish," he gasped, tears flowing unashamed now. "I don't care any more. It's _Bucky_. If there's even a chance, any part of him that's survived..."

Natasha gently stroked his hair, uncomfortable as hell at such naked emotion but grateful she could provide even a small measure of comfort. Sam came closer, putting a hand on Steve's back, and she realized that he'd probably seen more than his share of shell-shocked soldiers losing it, overwhelmed by their grief and no longer able to carry on. She wondered if he'd been expecting this.

She glanced at Tony and Clint, both politely having turned to the window, watching Bruce talk to Barnes, giving Steve what privacy they could.

"It's all right," she murmured. "Steve, it's all right. We'll all help. If anyone can get him through this, it's you."

Steve nodded, deep sobs racking him, the sorrow washing over him. Natasha briefly wondered if he'd let himself indulge in tears at any point in time, either after he woke up or while the search was going on. Wondered how much it had cost him to keep such a tight lid on his emotions as they worked to find Barnes, and whether he'd be able to pull himself together enough to help Barnes now.

"It's all right, Steve," Sam said quietly. "Just let it go."

Steve nodded wordlessly, shuddering in Natasha's arms and making no attempt to push it down any more. Probably for the best - though Natasha glanced at the room where Bruce was still speaking with Barnes and hoped Steve wasn't called back in any time soon.

What felt like hours later, finally the shaking was slowing down, and Steve's breathing was getting steadier. He drew a deep breath and started to straighten up, wiping his face.

"You all right?" asked Clint quietly, stepping away from the window and handing Steve a tissue.

Steve nodded automatically. "Uh. Sorry," he muttered, wiping his eyes, his voice wrecked. "I... sorry--"

"Think we were all wondering when that was gonna happen," said Sam. "Look, you can't keep it all in, all right? What's going on in there," he gestured with his head towards the other room, "what's happened to you and to him, you can't just take it all in stride."

"I have to," said Steve roughly. "It won't help him any if I'm a mess." He blinked rapidly, his hold on himself fragile but his resolve steely. "He's the priority here, not me."

"Yeah, he's the one who's been brain-wiped and all that," Sam agreed. "But you've gone through hell too, and ignoring that won't help him any. Especially if you're gonna be part of his recovery. You've gotta get yourself together and that _doesn't_ mean repressing everything, damnit."

Steve glared at him through reddened eyes. "I'm not--"

"I just spent four months helping you chase your boyfriend all over the world, with you treating it like a challenging mental exercise. Don't tell me you weren't repressed."

Steve bit his lip and looked into the room where Barnes sat quietly listening to Bruce.

"You're gonna need help too," Sam insisted.

"I'll set you up with someone," said Natasha. She paused. "And this time, please do me the courtesy of telling me if you're not going to take me up on it. I understand now why you didn't before, but..."

"You tried to set him up with a shrink?" asked Sam.

Natasha exchanged a glance with Steve, who was looking shaky but slightly less fragile. "I wish. I tried to set him up with girls."

Tony and Clint chuckled and Steve flushed.

"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Natasha.

Steve hesitated. "I wasn't... I know things are different now," he said slowly. "I wasn't ashamed, or trying to hide," he said, then paused and shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe I was, in part. But I couldn't - I didn't want to say anything because then I'd have to explain about Bucky and Bucky was _mine_. That part of my history was mine. Nobody else's business." He gazed at Barnes, and Natasha tried to see the gaunt, broken man lying in shackles as Steve must see him. As his file showed him: young, handsome, vital. "And I didn't ever want to think about what happened, or try to explain it to anybody." He glanced at her. "I probably would've told you eventually. Not about Bucky, but about not wanting to date any of the girls you set me up with."

"You're not bi, then," said Tony.

Steve shook his head. "Not really. Maybe a bit - I can find girls pretty, it's just... I didn't want to explain."

"I could've set you up with some very nice men too, you know," said Natasha.

Steve shook his head. "Not likely. I... it's really not my thing. Dating, that is."

"You know there's a lot of people who swear you're a blushing virgin," Tony commented, and Steve grimaced. "I always thought that was crap because you were surrounded by USO girls for months, but--"

The door opened and Bruce came out. "All right," he said, looking weary. "I've done all I can right now. I'm going to get him some food, do some bloodwork. He's agreed that he's probably got to stay restrained until we can get psych evaluations done."

Tony frowned. "He's staying in restraints until tomorrow?"

Steve shook his head, opening his mouth to protest.

Bruce put up a hand. "Before you say anything, I didn't suggest it. He did."

"What?"

"There's a lot of anger there, Steve. A lot of confusion, too, and fear. But a lot of anger there waiting to come out. Trust me. I know anger." He paused. "He's got to stay in restraints until we have a bit better idea of how to keep him and everyone else safe from that. I can't guarantee that he won't cause a hell of a mess in there if we release him, and while I'm sure you - or I - could contain him, I don't think you really want to do that. I know I don't."

Steve swallowed hard. "You know, one of the things that still gives me nightmares is seeing him cuffed like that when we were arrested." He blew out his breath. "It's like a horrible flashback. Damn it."

"Different context," said Natasha, resolving to ask him about that arrest some day. Not right now, though.

"Yeah. For one thing, this time I'm not right next to him. He doesn't even know me." Steve's reddened eyes met hers sadly. "Now the hard part starts, doesn't it?"

Natasha nodded grimly. "Now the hard part starts," she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently Tony *was* targeted by Insight. See, I've only seen The Winter Soldier in the theatre once. So I didn't see that part. I am *so* jealous of those of you who were able to spot that!


	3. That pretty much sums us up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, whew, finally the next chapter. Unbeta'd, so please let me know if you spot anything off.

**1.**

Natasha wearily rested her head against the back of the elevator and glanced over at Sam. Funny; she and Clint were the ones who'd been away for two weeks, staying in old and so far uncompromised SHIELD safehouses all over the world, tracking down leads and alternating long, boring stakeouts with frantic activity; somehow Sam seemed more tired.

Maybe because her labors had been succesful. Three HYDRA cells found and wiped out. It seemed Sam hadn't been so lucky.

"It's always the unsteadiness that's the hardest," Sam was saying. "I told Steve what to expect, but it's different, seeing it. One day he's fine, making progress in therapy, remembering random things and able to process them and move on. Working with us. The next..."

Natasha nodded, and met Clint's eyes. Both of them were just a little too familiar with what that felt like, both to go through it and to witness it.

"But overall he's on board?" asked Clint.

"Yeah. With the therapy, with Tony examining his arm - even with us keeping information from him."

"I can imagine that part would be frustrating," said Natasha.

"It is, but he understands. He remembers things on his own every so often. And he says it's different when he's prompted. The other day he remembered that Steve used to draw, and he said that felt real. It's always so hard, with memories, to tell what's your own memory and what's just a memory that you think you have because somebody told you that you should have it."

"HYDRA gave him enough of those," said Natasha.

"Which is why he's OK with us staying quiet about his own past until he figures it out. It's a hard line to skirt, though."

"How is he today?" asked Clint.

"It's a pretty good day so far. Steve's in there with him right now."

"How's Steve doing?"

Sam tensed minutely.

"That good?"

Sam shook his head. "I would not want to be in his shoes."

"Has Barnes remembered they were lovers yet?" asked Natasha.

"Don't think so. He looks at Steve a little oddly every so often, but no, we don't think so."

"How's Steve?" Clint repeated.

Sam shrugged. "Well, you know Steve. Stiff upper lip all the way." Natasha had a sudden vivid memory of him weeping broken-hearted in her arms, and blinked impatiently, focussing on Sam again. "He's helping," Sam continued. "Even though it's gotta be incredibly painful. He's in there every day, keeping Barnes company."

Clint frowned. "Without being able to talk to him about his memories, what can he do?"

"Well, Barnes has an hour in the morning and an hour at night of therapy, and in between he's got lessons on all the stuff he's missed. You know - history, technology, politics, general culture stuff. Steve helps him with that, sometimes. And they play board games. Cards. Talk about politics. Books. Anything that isn't talking about memories." He blew out his breath. "That's assuming Barnes is stable."

"What happens when he isn't stable?"

Sam swallowed. "That's a little rougher. Sometimes therapy doesn't go so well. Sometimes he gets frustrated, or has nightmares. Those aren't good days."

"What does he do?"

"Sometimes it's not so bad, he's just moody or quiet. Other days - well he scared the hell out a therapist a couple days in when he threw a chair leg at her. Just ripped it off and threw it before she could even react. It's spooky - he doesn't look that pissed off. Just... cold. He wasn't really aiming for her, or she would've been dead." He cleared his throat. "And then there's the other stuff..." He sighed. "You know how his arm had some weird-ass poison darts in it, and we'd read about it and disarmed them while he was unconscious and it was OK because they were out of poison anyway?"

Clint nodded.

"Yeah he can also shock people with it. It's like a Widow's Bite."

"That wasn't in his file," said Natasha, alarmed.

"No. And he didn't tell us about it. Because apparently he fucking well didn't know. Until he got pissed off at his therapist - different from the one he threw the chair leg at - and Steve came in to subdue him, because he was tearing the room apart, and he shocked Steve."

"Jesus," muttered Clint.

"Yeah. Good thing it was Steve - he was just a bit stunned. And good thing Barnes was too surprised himself to take advantage of it. Gave Steve time to get back on his feet." Sam paused. "And then there's the shit he says."

"Like what?"

"He's pissed off. He knows he needs to be here, on his good days. But he's pissed off, and on bad days he wants out and he knows he's not gonna get out unless he kills a bunch of people, and he doesn't want to do that. So he lashes out."

"Verbally?" asked Natasha.

"He knows all our weak spots, too. Figured out Steve's pretty quickly. Not so bad when he's swearing in Russian, but when it's in English..."

"What does he say?"

Sam grimaced. "Says he's being kept prisoner. That we're no better than the people who made him the Winter Soldier. Called Steve out for having worked for HYDRA. Me for being a failed flyer. One of the therapists for being more concerned with his patients than his kids."

"How would he know any of that?" asked Clint. "He was an assassin, not a spy."

Natasha shook her head. "He wasn't just trained to shoot; he could already do that. He was trained to examine his targets to detect weaknesses, like emotional ties, addictions, fears."

"And he used that while he was the Winter Soldier?"

Natasha shrugged. "Most of his kills used force more than anything else. But he could also get into places where he shouldn't have been able to get in. Pass as staff. Figure out personal things about his targets. I guess this is how. And he had to do it fast, too - apparently the longer he was off the ice, the more erratic he got, so they had to train him to recognize weak spots and make plans and infiltrate and get his target - within a very short period of time."

"It's taking a toll," said Sam. "Two therapists have quit. And Steve needs a break."

"He's not gonna take one," said Clint.

"He's showing the strain. He told off one of the therapists for not seeing that Bucky was agitated. Considering what Bucky had just done, that wasn't... helpful."

"I'd like to see him," said Natasha.

"Nat, we just got back," Clint protested.

"We won't stay long. Is Barnes settled into the apartment Tony made for him?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "It's still pretty bare bones, but we've got furniture in there. The only thing is no wifi and no knives. There's not much point to that - if he really wanted to get out he could make a weapon out of anything - but this way at least he has to work to weaponize. Which is why JARVIS monitors him and we look at what he films when we're not there. There's usually somebody watching too, if anybody's in there with him. Tony's got a guard posted."

"Thank God for deep pockets," said Clint.

"Yeah."

They got off and went into the small control room attached to Barnes' apartment, and Natasha looked around. Several screens showed rooms in the apartment, which now had bookshelves. On one, in the living room, Barnes and Steve were playing what looked like cards. Poker.

She narrowed her eyes, taking in the scene before her. "You said today's a good day?"

"It was this morning." Sam looked at the screen. "Damn. It's not any more."

The security guard frowned at them and moved to Natasha's side as she peered at the screen. Steve and Barnes seemed tense, laying down cards stiffly, neither one speaking. She'd played cards with Steve a few times on missions and he'd never seemed this tightly controlled.

"Gonna lose this one," said Barnes.

"You don't know that yet."

"Believe it or not I was taught to play poker at a professional level. Dunno if it was to blend in if a target was a player, or to train me to detect tells." He blew out his breath. "More useless shit I'll never use."

"You don't know that," said Steve. "Some of your training might come in handy some day."

"Which part?" asked Barnes. "Figuring out poker tells? Or fifty-two ways to jab a man in the jugular?"

Steve sighed.

"You don't like it," said Barnes flatly. "You hate when I point this shit out."

Steve swallowed. "I don't if it helps you feel better," he said, eyes back on his cards.

"No kidding."

Steve looked away.

Barnes put the cards down. "So what am I supposed to do now? All my training's for shit. All this therapy bullshit you're shoving at me--"

"We're trying to help," said Steve.

"And what if I can't ever be released from here?"

"I'll stay with you."

"I don't want your charity."

"It's not charity. You would've done the same for me. In fact, you did. When I had nothing, you took me in."

Barnes frowned.

"You remembered that the other day," Steve said quietly. "After we reburied my mom next to my dad. I'd paid for the plot and then lost my job. You made me move in with you--"

"I--"

"I'll do the same for you."

"You don't know how long--"

"As long as it takes. I'll take care of you till you die if it comes to that."

"Till death do us part, is that it?" Barnes flung bitterly, and Natasha winced as Steve flinched.

"Something like that," said Steve, his voice low.

"The hell with you," muttered Barnes. "Don't you ever get tired of playing hero?"

"All right." Steve put his cards down. "Look, you're not interested in cards--"

Barnes suddenly kicked the table, shaking it, and Natasha realized it was bolted to the floor. "No. No, fuck, I'm not interested in the fucking cards."

Sam swore under his breath. Steve rose to his feet smoothly, but Natasha could tell from his stance and the tension in his limbs that he was prepped for a fight.

"It's all right--"

"No. No, it's not fucking all right," Barnes said, and picked up a chair, throwing it at Steve, who ducked. Barnes's face was a mask of tension, but he was otherwise eerily calm. "You hate when I say that. When I say you're jailing me just like HYDRA did."

"Yeah, I do."

"At least they never said it was for my own good."

Steve shook his head. "Because it wasn't." Steve ducked again as Barnes threw another chair. "James, calm down!" he stepped into Barnes's space. "Look, I know you're frustrated, but--" he went to put a hand on Barnes's shoulder and Barnes snarled at him, violently slapping his hand away.

"Fuck you!" Barnes said, his voice low and vicious. "Don't - you can't understand. You don't know - you just went to fucking sleep for seventy years, what the hell do you know?"

"I don't. I don't know. But I can try to help--" Steve stepped closer again and Barnes stepped into his space, metal hand in the middle of Steve's chest and shoving him back. Steve smacked into the wall.

"Jesus--" Clint moved toward the door and Sam stopped him.

"Wait, don't," said Sam. "Steve can get him to pull back sometimes. If we step in, he feels cornered."

Clint glanced at the room, where Barnes was now stalking closer to Steve. "Yeah? Looks like Steve's cornered right now."

"Give him a moment," Sam muttered, and they watched as Barnes threw another broken piece of chair and Steve backed away, his eyes fixed on Barnes and his hands held by his side, still murmuring calm words - and then Barnes reached out his metal hand to Steve's neck. "Fuck," Sam groaned. "Never mind, in we go."

Natasha moved to the door, and they burst in as Barnes pulled back to punch Steve in the face, and the next moments were a blur as all of them fought to subdue him, finally wrestling him to the ground and getting the specially modified handcuffs on him, Steve talking to him the whole time.

"It's all right, James," he said, gasping, when they finally had him restrained. "It's all right. We're not gonna let you hurt anyone."

Natasha suppressed the urge to snort rather indelicately. Her lip felt bruised, Clint was gonna have a hell of a shiner, Steve's cheek was scraped and Sam was holding his ribs gingerly and all she could think was _bozhe moi_ it had taken all four of them, trained fighters all, to get him down, never mind that they were trying not to hurt him and he had no such compunctions. His strength was unbelievable.

No internal Russian, she reminded herself sternly. Barnes wouldn't appreciate it if it slipped out; he'd spent enough time in the clutches of the Soviets.

Barnes was lying on the floor, muscles strained against the restraints, eyelids clenched shut, but Natasha had seen the fear in his eyes during the struggle.

Steve drew closer to Barnes, drawing his knees up and clasping his arms around them. "It's OK," he murmured, wearily resting his head on his knees, and Barnes nodded tensely. "It's OK. You didn't hurt anyone. We're all fine."

Barnes nodded, his breath evening. Within moments he was asleep.

**2.**

"He'll be all right?" asked Clint.

Sam nodded, wincing slightly and putting a hand to his ribs. "If his pattern holds, he's gonna sleep for a few hours and wake up feeling a lot calmer. He seems to relax when he's in those restraints, we're not sure why. He either feels safe, like he can't hurt himself or anyone else, or he shuts down because he's been trained to understand that it's futile to fight. Either way, he gets some rest."

Steve grimaced, staring into the room. "That's not _rest,_ " he said brusquely. "It's unconsciousness."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," said Sam. "He'll feel better later."

Steve scowled.

"I think we need to put the telemetry Bruce was talking about," said Sam. Steve made a noise in his throat. "I know, I know, you feel it's invasive. But it's getting to where you're the only one who'll risk going in there with him. With the telemetry, we'll be able to monitor his heart rate, heat signature - maybe see the explosions coming before they happen."

Steve sighed.

"We'll tell him what we're doing, he'll know we're monitoring him - and he'll know we're monitoring everyone in there, it won't just be him."

Steve bit his lip and nodded, then got up and left.

Natasha gingerly touched her lip.

"Still glad you insisted on coming up here?" asked Clint. She gave him a dark scowl. "Look, let's go settle in. We can deal with this shit tomorrow, OK?"

Natasha nodded and followed Clint out of the room.

**3.**

"Have you gone outside at all since he's been back?" Natasha asked the next day as they ate breakfast in the common room, waiting for Barnes to be done with morning therapy.

Steve blinked, his spoon halfway to his mouth, puzzled. "Uh. No? I don't think so."

"Do you want to?"

Steve shook his head quickly. "No. I want to be here. Sometimes he gets... upset."

Natasha nodded and stirred her oatmeal. "He doesn't seem to have a lot of self-control," she agreed. "Though Sam says he's remembered a lot more than we thought he might."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "But it's all disorganized. And some of it isn't new memories - he's always remembered a lot of what they did to him. They took away memories of what he did and what he knew; they didn't usually wipe memories of his training."

"What about the wipes themselves? Does he remember them?"

Steve shuddered. "Yes."

Natasha winced and took a sip of her coffee and cast about for another topic. Hardened as she was to the ruthless ways human beings were capable of using and abusing each other, the thought of the mindwipe process left even her slightly nauseated. She glanced sideways at Steve. "You know, I've been trying to decide if you lied to me about something."

"What?"

"Remember when we were in the stolen car? I asked you if you'd kissed anyone in the last seventy years. You said you had."

Steve looked away, a slight blush on his cheeks. "I wasn't lying."

"No? When?"

Steve took a deep breath. "I went to a few bars."

"Gay bars?"

Steve nodded. "I didn't want - I wasn't ready to date." He cleared his throat. "I - I never have. I've only ever been... involved with Bucky. But I... was curious." Natasha nodded. "I went outside of New York and I wore glasses," he said defensively, apparently mistaking her silence for disapproval. "I have learned a little from you. I made sure I wouldn't be recognized."

"And you kissed someone?"

"Twice." Steve gave her a wry smile. "I didn't do much more than kiss either of them. We made out a bit, but I couldn't - I didn't want to take it farther. It was too weird. They both... they both looked a bit like Bucky."

"When was this?"

"Second time was about a month before... well, everything."

Natasha nodded, thinking it over. So Steve had been getting used to this time, to this world. He might have rejected all of her attempts to matchmake, but he'd started taking the initiative, tentative as it was, to get over his supposedly dead one-and-only.

He had been doing better. She'd sensed his sadness, his loneliness, but he had been getting better. He'd been working, he'd gone to bars - he'd even struck up a friendship with Sam. Which could have been a simple human connection or a fledging attempt to flirt with an attractive man...

And then everything had gone to hell. Because even if he'd been able to pick up the pieces professionally and ethically after the fall of SHIELD, here was Barnes, effectively derailing any progress Steve might have made emotionally.

"Were you ever going to say anything?"

"Eventually, maybe. I'm not indifferent to women, you know." She gave him a skeptical glance. "Look, I really did have a sort of crush on Peggy," he said defensively. "Besides... it felt familiar."

"What did?"

"Having someone try to set me up with a girl. With a lot of girls. The old lady on our floor back in Brooklyn used to do that." He looked down. "So did Bucky."

"He did?"

Steve nodded. "Didn't do any good. No girl ever looked at me twice until after this," he gestured to his body vaguely. "And then I was with the USO girls and some of them were nice but it was - I didn't know how to talk to them. Didn't even really know how to talk to Peggy either."

Natasha stirred her oatmeal thoughtfully. "What did you think when you saw how things are now?" Steve looked at her questioningly. "For gays, that is."

Steve took a deep breath. "I guess you're waiting for me to say I think it's great that kids these day don't have to go through what we went through. Hiding, feeling ashamed of themselves." He met her eyes steadily. "Showing they love each other by leaving each other. They can even serve their country openly now. Brave new world, acceptance, all that stuff."

Natasha tilted her head to the side. His voice sounded remarkably flat and tired.

"I'm glad things are different, yeah. Of course." He put his spoon down. "But it all came seventy years too late for us. So don't expect me to not feel a little bitter."

Sam appeared in the doorway. "Steve."

Steve sighed and turned to the door. "Yeah."

"He's asking for you."

Steve stood and headed out, his face grim.

"So... how is he?" she asked Sam.

Sam grimaced. "Who knows. Same. He slept pretty well."

"How's Steve?"

"It's always hard on him the day after Barnes has one of these episodes. He'll probably go for an extra-long boxing session this afternoon."

"I mean how is he, other than day-to-day. Big picture."

Sam regarded her seriously for a moment. "He doesn't want to admit that there may not be a happy ending to this."

"He seemed pretty realistic about it before we got Barnes," said Natasha.

"And he's still putting up a good front. Saying the right words. But I can tell he's holding out hope for a full recovery, for Bucky to be what he used to be. That might not happen."

Natasha nodded. "Surrender isn't in Steve's dictionary," she noted.

"He may have to add it in," Sam said grimly. "Barnes is doing his best. But even he doesn't know everything about what they did to him. Besides, all of his training and conditioning tells him to use every advantage he can to get the hell out of here. I don't know how long he can fight that. We've got JARVIS monitoring and we try to do what we can, but he's done a few things that are a little scary."

"Like what?"

"He's managed to loosen some furniture that was bolted down without us noticing, and then used it as a weapon. Going back and looking at the surveillance we could see when he'd done it, but..."

"That's not good."

"No. We've got surveillance on him 24/7, and he knows it. We're monitoring his vital signs, so hopefully we'll be able to tell when he's feeling strongly about stuff. Who knows. Sometimes he's pretty... disconnected. Basically he's a mess." Sam took a deep breath. "And we don't know if he'll ever _not_ be a mess. I don't know if Steve can accept that."

"He may not have a choice, if Barnes goes on the FBI's Most Wanted list."

Sam groaned. "That's still a possibility?"

Natasha nodded. With the takeover of much of SHIELD's operations by the government, and with the coordination of various world governments in trying to track down the remnants of HYDRA, there was no shortage of HYDRA fugitives being tracked down. And the Winter Soldier was still such a semi-mythical figure that it wasn't surprising that there hadn't been a concerted effort to put together all intelligence on him and make his capture a priority.

But it might be only a matter of time. And really they all knew they were harboring a wanted felon, whether or not there was an official bulletin out connecting James Buchanan Barnes to the Winter Soldier. Plausible deniability could only get them so far if he went on Most Wanted, especially as, by this point, there were several therapists and guards involved who could put two and two together and had no reason to commit a crime by concealing his whereabouts.

Natasha finished her breakfast in silence and returned her plate to the dishwasher. Well, she and Clint were going to be in town for at least a week. Maybe they could help; offer fresh eyes to the situation. Or at least offer their friendship when things went wrong.

**4.**

"We were we lovers, weren't we?" Barnes asked a few days later, and Steve's breath drew in sharply.

"Shit," muttered Clint, and Natasha leaned forward, her morning coffee forgotten, eyes intent on the window before her. Barnes was gazing steadily at Steve, his voice calm and measured, his vital signs steady. Steve put down his cards and swallowed hard, meeting Barnes's gaze steadily and seeming just as calm, but his vital signs were quickly going haywire.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Not supposed to prompt you, remember?"

Beside Natasha, the guard on duty quietly spoke into the phone, sounding like he was leaving a message for Sam to let him know what was going on. She was abruptly very glad that she and Clint had decided to drop by to the observation room today; Steve was probably going to need a lot of support by the time Barnes was done with him.

Barnes gave Steve a small smile. "That's a pretty big prompt. You didn't introduce yourself that way when we met on the Helicarrier. You just said we were friends."

"Yeah." Steve hesitated. "How much do you remember?"

"Not much," said Barnes. "Images - but it's sometimes hard to tell what's real and what's made-up. Holding your hand. You on your knees sucking me off." Steve drew in his breath and Clint choked on his coffee. "Lying in bed together. Touching you." He paused thoughtfully. "Feelings. Shame. Fear. Frustration."

Steve swallowed, his face having reddened slightly at Barnes's nonchalant words. "That pretty much sums us up," he said, his voice low.

"You said you were my friend. You never mentioned anything else. The Smithsonian never mentioned it."

"We didn't call ourselves anything else," said Steve. "Even when we were living together. It wasn't... at the time, it wasn't possible for us to be anything except friends who slept together sometimes even though we weren't supposed to. We didn't call each other lovers."

"We were, though," said Barnes, more confident now. "There were things I couldn't explain otherwise. The Smithsonian didn't say anything about it - but I remembered holding you. And it didn't make sense, how you broke down when I said you should leave."

Steve's heartbeat was slowing down slightly, but his posture was still tense, still on edge.

"So we didn't even have a word for what we were," said Barnes. "At the time."

"We couldn't. We were afraid of... everything," said Steve. "Going to hell. People finding out. Being arrested."

Barnes chewed his lip. "They found out, didn't they."

Steve nodded. He hesitated. "Do you remember anything about that?"

Barned closed his eyes, thinking, for a long time. "Fear. Handcuffs. Guilt." His brows drew together. "The Colonel. He was disgusted. He..." Barnes trailed off, sighed. "For the longest time I thought those memories were made up, because they didn't make sense. Why would we have been arrested while we were in the Army? We were heroes. _You_ were a hero."

Steve had paled slightly. "I was kinda hoping you wouldn't remember that."

Barnes stared at the floor, eyes unfocussed. "It was my fault, wasn't it?" he said slowly. "You were cuffed and looking at being publicly disgraced, and it was my fault because I'd wanted to - and the men overheard us. They overheard us fucking." He blinked. "Don't remember who. They all went from admiring you to hating you."

"Jones and Morita overheard, and it wasn't your fault," said Steve. "I could've said no. Besides, it wasn't as bad as we'd thought it would be."

Barnes stared at him. "I remember the Colonel's face. I remember feeling lower than shit because of him."

Steve shook his head. "He let us keep serving. He even let you stay in the unit, and kept everything quiet." He gazed down at the table. "And after you... died, he gave me his condolences. He told the men to go get me drunk - which they couldn't. He... he did his best. He just... he was in a difficult position."

"A difficult position?" Barnes glared at Steve. "He put us through hell. And you sat there and let him." He paused. "And the men... they treated us like lepers."

"At first, yeah. But it got better. And after we lost you, they tried to help. Sat with me while I tried to figure out how the hell I was gonna go on without you."

"How did you?"

"I didn't," Steve said evenly. "I put my plane in the water instead."

Barnes looked away. "Hey, no pressure."

"What?"

"No pressure on me, to be the guy you killed yourself for."

"That's not--"

"I'm not him," said Barnes.

"I know."

"I just wear his face and carry around his memories."

Steve sighed, misery etched across his face, and Barnes gazed at him dispassionately.

"Do you still feel that way?"

Steve looked away. "You can't ask me that."

"Why not?"

"It's not fair."

"How?"

Steve faced him again. "I've been in love with you since we were kids. Tony called us childhood sweethearts." He swallowed hard. "Never thought of us that way, but he was right. But you... you barely remember me."

"Do you still feel the same way?" Barnes insisted.

"You don't stop loving somebody just because they've been hurt, James," said Steve gently. "It doesn't work that way."

Barnes nodded, a curious expression on his face. "His memories are pretty vivid sometimes." He paused. "My memories."

Steve's eyes were glued to Barnes as Barnes stood up and came around the small table, their cards forgotten on its surface.

"I remember. I remember how you looked. I remember..." he drew closer, then put a hand on Steve's cheek and Natasha and Clint tensed as Steve's heartbeat raced. Barnes's was steady, though slowly getting faster.

He gazed at Steve curiously, and Steve swallowed, frozen in place. Barnes slowly lifted his hand to brush his fingers through Steve's hair, then leaned closer and touched his mouth to Steve's, and Steve's breath left him in a gasp. There was a frozen pause, then Barnes moved his lips against Steve's and Steve closed his eyes, his hands clenched tight on the edge of the table, then tentatively moved his lips against Barnes.

Natasha eyed the readings on them both. Steve's heartbeat, temperature, respiration - everything was going off the charts, his whole body trembling. Barnes's readings were getting erratic as well. Barnes gently urged Steve to his feet and then brought his metal hand to Steve's back and drew it down his back to his waist as they kissed again.

Natasha exchanged a glance with Clint. No. No, this was going too fast, and they had no idea why Barnes was doing this - if it indicated genuine feelings for Steve or some attempt at manipulation. She nodded towards the small button for the intercom. Clint cleared his throat and tabbed it. "Captain Rogers, we’re going to need you to come out of the room," he said quietly.

Steve slowly drew away from Barnes, his eyes dazed, radiating fear and uncertainty and... and hope.

Barnes smiled at him ruefully. "I knew you’d have to," he said softly. "I’m surprised they let it go on this long." He brought Steve closer, kissed him again. "Go," he whispered as he drew back. "Unless you want them to break down the door coming in to rescue you."

Steve bit his lip and turned to the door, and gave Barnes one last long look back. "I'll come back," he said quietly.

"I know," said Barnes. "You always do."

Yes, he did, thought Natasha. He always did. And Barnes knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting this out there: Anybody out there interested in betaing every so often? Deep-massage beta is best, but at this point I'm happy with any help. Chapters should be coming somewhat faster now (she says, knocking on a lot of wood) and it looks like there's three more to go.
> 
> Thanks!


	4. Who knows, maybe that's the one thing we can do for each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, justlikeluna and EyeMCSM for excellent beta!

****

**1.**

Natasha glanced at the monitor. Barnes was quietly reading - Little Women, of all things - and looking calm and peaceful. No hint that he'd just completely thrown Steve for a loop.

She turned back to Steve. He'd been silent since they'd called him out of the room, gazing into space, unable to concentrate. She and Clint had gotten him a coffee - which had cooled untasted while they waited for Sam - and tried futilely to make small talk.

Sam walked in and sat down, putting his elbows on the table. There was a brief silence. "Well, it's not totally unexpected."

Steve nodded, still gazing into space, his face blank.

"I looked over the surveillance on my pad," said Sam. "He's not angry at us for keeping this from him, that's good. Though I wish we had our resident anger expert here."

"When does Bruce get back?" asked Clint. "Thought his conference finished yesterday?"

"It ran over a bit,"" said Natasha. "He'll be back tomorrow."

Sam nodded. "OK. So. Steve, what do you think?" 

Steve shook his head. "I have no idea."

"OK, first off, you know why they called you out, right?"

"I know. He could be manipulating me. I know that." He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at the monitor where Barnes was still reading, and Natasha could almost feel his confusion and frustration.

"Do you think he was?"

Steve shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I honestly don't."

"What were you feeling?" asked Natasha.

"What?"

"When he kissed you."

Steve blushed. "Uh."

"You know she's not asking out of idle curiosity," said Sam. "We need to know what's going on with you. _You_ need to know what's going on with you."

Steve closed his eyes. "Nervous. Scared. He’s not - I don’t want to set back his progress. I don’t know if he’s… it’s too soon."

"Were you afraid for yourself at all?"

Steve frowned, puzzled. "No, not really. But he’s - I was confused."

"Do you think it could be manipulation?" Sam asked Natasha.

Natasha pursed her lips. "I don't know. He's good at getting information. He's been trained, in ways you can't imagine, to tally up every human interaction and use it for his benefit."

Steve shuddered, but nodded. "Do you think I don't know that? I know he might have had ulterior motives. But - I don’t think he did. I think he was genuine. I think that was Bucky in there."

"You may be right. I'm not saying it's impossible. For one thing, he did get aroused."

Steve blinked. "What?"

Sam gave Natasha a pained look. "He, uh, he got hard," said Sam.

Steve flushed deeply. "How would you know--"

"Heat signature, remember? His changed. Yours didn't. You were too off-balance, right?"

"Uh." Steve crossed his arms, clearly wishing the topic of conversation would move somewhere else. Somewhere far away. "Yeah, I guess so."

"All right." Sam bit his lip. "I say we take this as genuine. For now."

Clint rubbed at his hair. "Great. So what does Steve do next time? Just pick up where they left off?"

Sam shook his head. "I definitely wouldn't recommend that," he said. "And... I think Bucky knows he can't. I don't think it'll come as a surprise to him if you ask him to back off. For now."

Steve nodded.

"Do you want to ask him to back off?" asked Clint.

Steve blinked, startled. "Whatever he needs."

"You know he's not the only one involved here, right?" said Sam patiently. "He's the priority, but you have to be aware of what you want too."

"I want whatever's best for him," said Steve stubbornly. "That's all I've ever wanted."

"Well, he might ask you. You'll probably have to come up with something better than that."

Steve swallowed nervously.

"Seriously, dude, do you still... I mean, we all get that it's a forever broship and all, but are you still..." Clint paused, then went on impatiently. "If he wasn't massively fucked up right now, would you still wanna get horizontal and bump uglies with the guy? Or is that done for you? 'Cause he's gonna need to know."

Steve's mouth dropped open.

"Thanks for the visual, Clint," said Natasha, rolling her eyes.

"Ignore his tone and think about his question," said Sam with a chuckle.

Steve cleared his throat and looked away from them. "I... oh, God." He stood up, looking at the monitor. "I haven't let myself think about anything... like that. He's not himself. He's hurt. Until about an hour ago, it was - it was a no-go zone."

"Well it's not any more," Sam pointed out.

"I don't know. Of course I want - if he was healthy and himself again, of course I'd want..."

"But he's not. Do you want him the way he is now?"

"Sam, he's..." Steve sighed. "I don't know how _not_ to."

"OK," Sam nodded. "We can work with that. You're OK with telling him to back off for now, though?"

"Yeah, of course. What should I actually say, though?"

Sam shrugged. "You can frame it as, neither of you is really in a position to provide free consent. Right? I mean, he's essentially our prisoner. And you're... pretty messed up too, though you don't need to share that with him if you don't want. Just give him a time frame. Maybe a month and then you revisit where you both are."

Steve nodded, taking refuge in orders. It was interesting, thought Natasha, that for a man who'd become America's most iconic soldier, Steve actually wasn't generally very good at the whole "chain of command" thing - but he was completely out of his depth here, and seemed grateful for any guidance.

"What about after that month?" Clint asked.

Sam nodded and squared his shoulders. "Look, Steve, about the whole... about his motivations." He took a deep breath. "I know how much it messed me up when Riley died, and we were just friends. If I'd been able to get him back, and he was - if he'd gone through what Bucky's gone through..." Steve's lips were pressed together stubbornly and Sam paused. "I can understand, up to a point, all right? I know about wanting a friend back, and I know he's a lot more than a pal to you." Sam thought over his words carefully. "But you need to understand _him_. You need to be realistic about him. He's not really in control. I know you want him to get better, but he may not be able to. The hostility, the possibility of manipulation, the fact that you may have to be on your guard against him--"

"I know all of this," said Steve, crossing his arms again.

"You've _heard_ all of this," Sam corrected him patiently. "Look, it's like... I deal with a lot of vets who come back with addiction problems, right? They're pretty rough on their families. What I tell their spouses is that the love is there, they don't need to doubt that, but--"

"But I _do_ , Sam," Steve broke in. "I don't know how he feels any more. And we're not like the people you work with. We--"

"I know I haven't dealt with super soldiers - trust me, I know I'm completely outta my element there," Sam said, and Natasha could feel his frustration. "But I have dealt with couples separated by a war. In some ways you're not that different--"

"You don't understand," Steve interrupted. "The last time he felt anything for me, we were both told it was dirty and wrong by everyone around us. It's taken a lot for _me_ to get past that, and I've had a couple of years to do it." He took a deep breath. "He was being tortured and treated as less than human while the world changed around him. By the _Russians_."

"Not exactly the most rainbow-friendly country on earth," Natasha noted. "And Sam... for all we know they may have found out about his orientation and tried to break him of it."

Clint swore under his breath.

"So, you're saying I shouldn't even hope," said Steve, and his voice was rough.

"Hope is fine," said Sam gently. "Just don't let it be blind hope. Keep your eyes open."

**2.**

Two days later, Natasha walked into the diner and sank down, sighing with weariness.

"Rough day at the office?" asked Tony.

"She and Clint tracked down two more HYDRA cells, both in New York," said Maria Hill, passing over her plate of fries.

"You mean we _missed_ two HYDRA cells," Natasha corrected her, picking up a fry. She spotted Steve at the diner entrance and waved him over. "And Clint's getting his dislocated elbow treated."

Maria shrugged. "You made them have to relocate. It's a pain in the ass. That's as good as it gets sometimes." She ate a fry and moved aside as Steve sank down next to her, and glanced over him. She met Natasha's eyes and Natasha gave her a small nod.

Yes, he was trying to act like everything was fine, like he wasn't weary down to his bones, like this wasn't the first time he'd been out of the Tower in weeks. There was a reason Tony had insisted they meet outside.

"How's our winter friend doing?" asked Maria.

Steve tensed. "Why do you ask?"

"I've been asked some interesting questions lately. I think people suspect we know something."

"Has anybody put him together with Barnes yet?" asked Natasha.

Maria shook her head. "Not yet."

Tony cleared his throat. "Pepper and I were talking about what to do when that happens."

"When?" asked Steve.

"It's really not an 'if' kind of thing," said Tony.

"And?"

"For starters," said Tony, "I'll testify on his behalf."

Steve raised his eyebrows.

"You don't think that would cause a media circus?" asked Maria. "Iron Man, testifying for a killer?"

"Not thinking of it so much as Iron Man, more as one of his indirect victims," said Tony. "You know, killed my parents and all that fun stuff."

Steve stared at him. "I didn't know if you'd read the report about that. You never mentioned it."

"Yeah, well it was a little awkward," said Tony dismissively. "What was I supposed to say? 'Dude, you're asking me to house your sweetie, but we've got a bit of a conflict here, he's the reason I lost my parents when I was still a kid?'"

"I'm sorry." Steve looked down. "You'd do that for him?"

"There's a decent guy in there. I think he's probably fighting to get out, with everything he's got." Tony sipped on his soft drink. "Nobody needs to know that Howard was a piss-poor father and that my mother cared more about her society friends than her kid, and that I may have been better off without them. If I need to I'll go in and swear that their deaths shattered me and sent me into a tailspin of drugs and sex and bad behavior, but that I can forgive him."

"You - you can't lie to--"

"It's not a lie, Steve," said Tony. "My parents weren't great, but their deaths messed me up. Forty thousand dollars worth of therapy tells me that when you've had a bad relationship with someone who dies, it can be worse than losing someone you got along with, because now you can never make it better. Your guy stopped me from ever getting to know my dad as an adult. Ever being able to get along with him." Steve winced. Tony leaned forward. "And I will testify that I forgive him. Even though I don't need to, because he didn't have a choice. I'll also testify that the man my dad knew in the War would never have done what he did in a million years. I mean, my dad had a serious man-crush on you, but he also said your buddy was one of the most loyal people in the world."

Steve blinked.

Tony grinned at him. "Yeah did you know he funded most of the post-War stuff on you guys? He worked with Peggy Carter and Dum Dum Dugan setting up SHIELD. After a few years of hearing their stories I think he realized he had some serious PR gold on his hands. So he had interviews done with the Commandos - I think that's what they're using in the current exhibit, as a matter of fact." He sipped his drink again. "They had a lot of good stuff to say about both of you. Dugan said Barnes was the most loyal man he'd ever met. One of the best soldiers too."

"Dum Dum said that?" asked Steve, his eyebrows rising.

"It's too bad all the Commandos are gone," Tony mused. "We could get all of them to come testify."

Natasha nodded. "All of us will, Steve. All the Avengers. Unfortunately Clint and I can't really do that much since I released all our files from SHIELD..."

"I dunno, Clint's got that 'heroic kid with a tragic past goes good' thing," said Tony.

"We'll talk about it," said Maria. "Stark PR can look into what will work best in terms of who says what."

"Clint's willing," said Natasha. "He's even willing to talk about what Loki made him do, and how he's all right now."

"Clint's brainwashing was different," Steve pointed out.

"We'll figure out how to spin it," said Tony. "Might even put out Bucky Bears again."

Steve grimaced. "He'd probably hate that."

"Would he hate it more than being confined for the rest of his life for stuff that wasn't his fault?" Steve nodded, conceding the point, and Tony paused for a moment before continuing, his tone almost gentle now. "So... how's it going with him? Heard he figured out you two had a thing going back in the day."

"Yeah," said Steve heavily.

"And?"

Steve shook his head.

"You're not picking up where you left off?"

"Don't you think it would be a little unethical?" said Steve impatiently. "He can't provide meaningful consent."

"Look who's all twenty-first century with his terminology," Tony snickered.

"Screw you," said Steve, but his lips twitched.

"So it's all look but don't touch. Was he OK with that?"

He had been, to everyone's surprise. The two of them had had a somewhat uncomfortable talk, mostly with Steve apologizing and saying what Sam had told him to say and Barnes nodding, and then gone back to playing chess.

"It's not that different from what we had before," Steve said quietly, his brief glimmer of humor gone.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Sure it is. Because this time there's a good reason for it." He pursed his lips. "Another thing Pepper brought up, about the Avengers testifying. What do you think about testifying to just how close you were?" 

Steve rubbed the space between his eyebrows, looking lost. "Would it do any good?"

"It all depends on when and how the news about him gets out," said Maria. "It's a pretty volatile topic."

"Anything related to the Winter Soldier is gonna be volatile," said Tony. "It's just a matter of figuring out proper containment for volatile substances. Stark Industries specializes in that, for weapons and people." He gave her a wide smile. "And now we've got all you SHIELD refugees to help us along." Maria gave him an eye roll and he smirked at her. "Well, enough of the depressing talk," said Tony. "We'll put together a proposal--"

"Somehow when you say 'we'll' I don't get the impression you're going to be part of the 'we,'" said Maria.

"I leave PR stuff to the experts," said Tony. "And I never get in the middle when you and Pepper start talking; I can never decide if I'm incredibly turned on or in fear for my life." He turned around. "Right now I'm thinking of this diner's specialty. Cap, ever have kangaroo burgers? Yak burgers? Goat burgers? No? You don't know what you've been missing. Then again, neither do I. Let's find out. Let's order one of each."

**3.**

"You were saying something about containment?" Natasha said innocently to Tony as she stepped into the apartment three days later. Tony gave her the finger - impressive, given the gauntlets - and picked up another fallen beam, depositing it on a pile and directing his bots as they cleared the area.

Natasha looked around at the unholy mess. Two smashed walls, broken furniture, shattered plastics - there had been no glass, thank God - gouges in the walls, a sizable hole in the floor. A large pile of broken masonry was accumulating on one side of the room as Tony and his bots moved it, clunking around the room.

She glanced through the hole in the wall. In the bedroom - mostly trashed, but not as badly as the main room - Bruce lay sleeping on Barnes's miraculously intact bed, dead to the world, a blanket preserving his modesty and a neat pile of fresh clothing at the foot of the bed.

"Is the therapist all right?" she asked Steve as he and Sam exited from the guest room.

"Yeah, she's all right," said Steve, looking hollow. "Near as we can tell."

She found a broken chair and judged its stability. The back was gone; the seat itself and the legs were fine, so it would do. "What happened? And is he sedated?"

"Sedated and restrained," said Sam, and pulled out another chair. "JARVIS'll let us know when he starts waking up. Steve, sit down."

Steve was staring into the room where Bruce slept on.

"Steve." Sam's voice was stern. "Sit. The fuck. Down."

Numbly, Steve took a seat, staring down at his hands blankly.

"What happened?" Natasha repeated.

"Near as we can tell, Bucky figured out the unit exit code from the therapist. We're trying to figure out how he did that, since everyone's trained not to let him get close when they're at the door. But of course he needed her fingerprints in order to actually get out, so he let her get comfortable enough with him to let him get pretty close to her, then immobilized her and brought her to the door and used her fingers to press the code into the keypad."

"How did he immobilize her?"

"He has some kind of nerve-paralyzing substance under his fingernails," said Steve.

"We didn't know about that," said Natasha.

"No."

"But he did." Natasha pursed her lips. "This isn't like the stunning power in his arm, that just activated and surprised him as much as us. He planned this, with the substance in mind."

"Yeah, he did," said Sam heavily. "We don't know when he remembered that he had it, but obviously, he didn't tell us."

"And Bruce?"

"Bruce was in the control room. He came in here, tried to talk Bucky into not going through the door, Bucky attacked him, and... well." He gestured around vaguely at the trashed room.

"You can't blame him for that part," said Steve.

"Don't have to blame him for any of it," said Sam mildly.

"Not even him keeping the stuff under his fingernails a secret from us?" asked Natasha. "What if that woman had been seriously hurt?"

Sam rubbed his hand over his face. "This isn't about blame," he said. "This is about trying to understand him, and being realistic. This is about knowing that _of course_ he's going to keep information from us. We're his _jailers_ , Steve. We're the enemy. And the therapist is fine, you know that. Temporarily stunned."

"He... I can't believe he just..." Steve looked down.

"He was used by his jailers before, and he doesn't want it to happen again," said Sam. "HYDRA brutalized him and forced him to go along with it, Stockholmed him to hell and back. Is it honestly surprising to you that he would be on his guard against letting that ever happen again? He's not the same guy he was before, Steve!"

"You think I don't understand that?" Steve flung out. "You think I don't know that he's different now? I knew him before, remember? Fuck you, Sam!" He stood, glaring down at Sam, and Sam returned his gaze, utterly unintimidated.

"So stop thinking of him the way he was before and think about him the way he is now. And don't loom over me."

Steve checked himself and slowly sat back down.

"You still feeling hopeful about him?" asked Sam quietly. It should have sounded accusatory, thought Natasha. Bruce was sleeping off a Hulk episode, a therapist was traumatized, and there were several thousands of dollars of damage to the apartment.

It didn't sound accusatory. It sounded curious.

"No," said Steve, his voice low.

Natasha glanced around the trashed apartment. "If it comes out that this happened, he'll be taken somewhere. I'm not sure we could prevent it."

"I'm not even completely sure we should," said Sam. "Maybe a psychiatric center would have better facilities. Be able to help him."

Steve shuddered. "We wouldn't have any control, though. He'd... he'd have nobody to speak for him. He doesn't have any family."

"That's true."

Steve bit his lip. "It's funny, when we were kids we used to say we would've gotten married if we could've. And now it's legal, and I would if I could, but..."

"But most places don't let you get married if you're not in your right mind," Sam finished for him. "And he's very definitely not."

"Tony's legal department could work something out," said Natasha. "To give you some kind of authority over him..."

"I don't want to trust his safety to other people," said Steve stubbornly. He glanced around the room. "This - this isn't hopeless."

Natasha winced. For all that Steve was normally self-assured and able to keep going despite setbacks, she hadn't seen him this discouraged and off-balance in a long, long time.

"He... he didn't have to do this while Bruce was here, for one thing," said Steve. "He knew he couldn't hurt Bruce. If he was operating on all cylinders to get out, he would've waited until Bruce wasn't around."

Natasha and Sam exchanged a look. He did have a point.

"Maybe he tried it with Bruce because he figured Bruce would break everything and he'd get out then," said Sam.

"He's a better planner than that," said Natasha.

"And." Steve cleared his throat. "He manipulated the therapist into letting him get close. He could've done a lot more with me. He probably knows he could get me to do anything he wants."

"You've got a point there." Sam sighed. "In any case. This means no more therapists. Not in the room."

JARVIS broke in. "Mr. Barnes is showing signs of waking up."

They left Tony and Dummy to the clean up, hurrying past them and heading into the spare room, where Barnes was blinking, blue eyes dazed. His eyes widened as he pulled on the restraints and Steve hurried across the room, coming into his field of vision.

There was a long silence.

"Are you OK?" Sam finally asked and Barnes pressed his lips together.

"Fine," he snapped. He turned his gaze away from Steve, and Natasha wasn't sure but he looked... ashamed? Maybe? Defiant too, though.

"James, I have to ask," Sam said quietly. "What were you hoping to do if you got out?"

"What the fuck do you think?" snarled Barnes. "Just get the fuck _out_."

Steve cleared his throat. "HYDRA's still--"

"I know HYDRA's still out there," snapped Barnes. He lay his head back, shaking it slightly to get a lock of hair out of his eyes and Steve leaned forward to gently move it for him. Barnes bit his lip, not meeting his gaze.

"You gonna put me back?" he asked sullenly.

"Back where?" asked Sam.

"In cryo."

Steve started. "What? Jesus. Buck - James, Jesus, no, of course not."

"What about wiping me down? I know you know how, my file included enough info for Stark to figure out--"

"We're _never_ gonna do that," said Steve, sounding shaken. "That is never gonna happen to you again."

"Maybe it should," said Barnes defiantly. "Ever think of that?"

"It's not an option," said Sam.

"Gonna hand me over to the proper authorities?"

Sam cleared his throat and Steve spoke up. "No. We're as close as anybody's gonna get to being the proper authorities."

"We will have to change some things, though," said Sam. "No more therapists in the room with you, for one thing. They'll have to talk to you from the observation room. We're also going to discuss your breakout conditioning. Try to figure out what happened to make you do this. Prevent it from happening again."

Barnes sneered at him. "It's not just conditioning. You try being cooped up with nobody but fucking shrinks for weeks on end. See how you like it."

"I'm sure I'd hate it. Anybody would," said Sam patiently. "But you were cooperating for quite a while before this. We'd like to make it as tolerable as possible."

"Tolerable. Great." Barnes lay his head back, staring at the ceiling. "At least with HYDRA I didn't have hours on end to sit and think about how much I wanted out."

"And how was it when you were on the run?" asked Sam, his tone carefully neutral. "Was that more tolerable? Knowing HYDRA and a whole bunch of governments and god knew who else were probably hunting you?"

Barnes pressed his lips together. He took a deep breath, then let it out. "I guess not." He turned back to Steve and Sam. "Tell Bruce... tell Bruce I'm sorry."

**4.**

Natasha considered the screen before her, a week later. "You know, I really tried to help you be happier in this century," she said thoughtfully, as Steve forwarded through the video of this morning's interactions with Barnes for the right spot to start. "I'm not a matchmaker, but I thought I'd introduce you to some girls. Help you figure out girlfriend problems. It wasn't something I was comfortable doing. But I thought maybe I could learn, for you."

Steve gave her a small smile. "It's the thought that counts."

"Instead you've got a love affair with an assassin who may be trying to play you, and we're trying to figure it out through surveillance." She sighed. "This is actually completely inside my comfort zone."

Steve chuckled tiredly and unpaused the recording.

"Is it any better, having other people in here?" Steve was asking as he set out the cards for yet another round of [Chrononauts](http://www.looneylabs.com/games/chrononauts).

Barnes shrugged. "It's fine. Better than nothing. Better than just the therapists and Sam and Bruce."

Steve dealt out their hands, and Barnes frowned at his Identity card, giving it back. "Nah, I don't like this guy."

"Why, who'd you get?" asked Steve, handing him a different Identity.

"Dale."

If Natasha recalled correctly, that particular Identity required Hitler to live past the 1936 Olympics and the Soviet Union to rise again in 1991. "I don't understand what you both see in that game," she commented as the pair on the screen quietly looked over their hands and prepared to play. "You've already learned all the history you could learn from it."

"It's dark humor," said Steve. "And we both get a bit of a kick out of killing Hitler. And preventing the Hindenburg disaster."

"I notice neither of you pays particular attention to gathering historical artifacts. You both try to win by manipulating the timeline."

"Did we used to play a lot of cards?" Barnes asked onscreen.

"Yeah. Poker mostly though. We didn't have games like these." Steve flipped over a timeline card, saving the Titanic.

"Funny, I remember us going to baseball games and fucking. Not a lot else."

On the screen, Steve blinked, and Natasha's eyebrows went up. Barnes didn't usually refer to their romantic past.

The pair on the screen played silently for a few minutes, flipping over Event cards and patching time paradoxes. Predictably, Hitler died almost immediately, and stayed dead. Lincoln survived his assassination attempt and was then impeached in 1868, Reagan died in 1981, Al Gore won - and then lost - the election of 2000, and the Crown of Thorns was found and then stolen. Steve's readings, jarred slightly by Barnes's offhand comment, settled to baseline again.

"This place is driving me crazy," Barnes said softly a few minutes later. "I know, short putt. But it's... it feels like I can't take this much longer."

Steve swallowed. "I'm sorry. We can't let you out, James. You're wanted, not just by HYDRA, but by our own government too--"

"You know you still stutter a tiny bit when you call me James? I don't mind if you call me Bucky." Steve's head snapped up and he made a small sound in his throat, which Barnes didn't seem to notice as he peered at his cards. "I know, we've gone over this, it's not your choice to keep me here and you know it's difficult for me to overcome my conditioning to get out and so on and so on," he said impatiently. "It's not even the conditioning. Think I'd be going nuts whether I had that or not." He flipped a card and saved the Lusitania.

Natasha eyed their readings. Barnes's hadn't changed since he'd mentioned his name. Steve's had spiked slightly.

"Is Bruce OK?" asked Barnes. "He hasn't been in since--"

"Yeah, he's fine," said Steve quickly, putting the World Peace card on 1945. "He's pretty busy. Still keeping up with your progress though."

"I didn't mean to trigger him."

"He knew the dangers of being here."

"Funny how the Serum worked for you, but not for him. Or me." Barnes saved Kennedy and put down a copy of Shakespeare's Last Play.

"Hey, it worked pretty well for you," said Steve. "Compared to Bruce."

"You know, it's a hell of a collection of people coming to visit me in here," Barnes mused. "I've tried to kill..." he seemed to be counting in his head, "three - no, four of you - and _did_ kill Stark's parents."

"Four?" Steve said. "How do you figure?"

"You, Romanova, Sam and Bruce. The only one untouched is Barton."

"You didn't try to kill Bruce," Steve objected. He flipped the Kennedy Assassination card the right way and Barnes swore.

"I just saved that guy," he said irritably. He gave Steve a small smile. "It's kinda funny that I didn't have anything to do with his death in the real world. All the people I killed that nobody suspects - and the one guy everybody's got a conspiracy for really was just killed by a lone nut."

Steve gave him a wry smile.

"I wonder if my handlers saw it all as seriously as we see this game," Barnes mused, and put down a Mona Lisa card. He sighed. "Wish I could get outta here. Even just for a day or so."

"I know. You can't, though. If the government caught you, they'd probably take you in for a lot longer than we will. And we don't know how they'd treat you."

"You know it's gonna come out eventually. Who I am. Where I am."

"You know Stark Industries already has a contingency plan."

Barnes prevented the launch of Sputnik. "He's not too much like his old man, is he? Stark, I mean."

"How much do you remember of Howard?"

"I remember you thought he was sweet on your girl."

Steve blinked, a card in his hand. "She wasn't my girl. You do know that, right?"

"I remember I told you to go out with her. And you said no." Barnes gave him a humorless smirk. "You fucking hypocrite. After all the times you'd pushed me at girls..."

Steve cleared his throat and put down his Marijuana Legalized card on 1986.

"Will you testify like Stark said he would?" asked Barnes, lips pursed as he figured out his next move.

"We'd have to be really careful with that."

"Why? Don't wanna admit you used to fuck the Winter Soldier?"

Steve shook his head. "I'd want to speak on your behalf. It's just... complicated."

"Yeah." Barnes put down the Sarah Palin Elected President card on 2008. "Captain America, and a killer."

"I'd probably be accused of bias," said Steve patiently. "It would make anything I said suspect."

"Especially if everything that happened during the War came up."

"Yeah."

"Would you admit to that? Nearly being court-martialed? Being overheard fucking another man? Although I guess it wouldn't come up," Barnes mused. "Nobody left alive who remembers it. They promised to take the secret to their graves and apparently they did."

Steve smiled slightly. "Yeah, they did."

"And nothing's happened since then. One kiss. You wouldn't have to say anything about it."

"I wouldn't lie under oath."

Barnes rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that noble shit. We're not together now; there'd be nothing to lie about."

Steve sighed. "We're not together now, but that's not by my choice."

Barnes sneered and flipped the Titanic card back over, sinking it again. "Please. It's always been your choice."

"What?"

"I remember, you know. You sent me away before. Over and over again. It was always your choice."

Steve took a deep breath and put down his cards. "Do you remember why?"

Barnes shrugged. "Because you were a fucking coward."

"Because I cared about you and I didn't think being with me was what was best for you."

Barnes tilted his head to the side, gazing at Steve thoughtfully.

"And you would have done the same thing. You did, when you told me to go after Peggy." He ran a hand over his hair. "Who knows, maybe that's the one thing we can do for each other," he said. "Send each other packing. You even did it when we first brought you in. You didn't even remember me and you wanted to send me away."

"You think that was out of concern for you?"

"Sounded like it to me."

"Maybe I just couldn't be bothered," Barnes said, his voice cold. "And maybe that's what this is," he gestured between them. "You say it's that I can't 'meaningfully consent' or whatever bullshit you fed me. Maybe that's not it at all. Maybe it's that you can't be bothered."

Steve swallowed. "You're wrong."

"Pal, it doesn't feel like it from here," said Barnes evenly, his heart rate increasing slightly. "It feels like a pretty pat brush-off. Nice solution for you; not so nice for me, as long as I'm gonna be honest about my inner feelings like those damn therapists keep pushing."

"There's never been a happy solution for us," said Steve bitterly. "You think there was a happy solution when we were kids? When we both thought the choice was pining away forever or losing each other as friends? When I had to choose between doing what we both wanted and feeling like I was sending us both to hell? When I thought about being alone forever or keeping you from getting married and being happy?" He glared at Barnes. "Or do you mean when we were in the Army and we could choose between being together but never touching or risking being caught? Or when we _did_ get caught and nearly court-martialed--"

"Star-crossed lovers, huh?"

"To be honest a big part of me hopes you never get back most of those memories," said Steve. "Maybe you're better off without them."

"Yeah? Well I remember a hell of a lot. I remember rejection, asshole," said Barnes, his eyes glittering. "I remember _begging_ you not to send me away. I remember telling you I didn't give a damn, I didn't care what anyone thought, I just wanted to be with you! But you - you were scared someone would figure out you were a flaming fairy. You wanted to go back to Church, you wanted to be the good Catholic boy everyone thought you were, like you didn't love getting down on your knees to suck my cock more than you ever loved getting on your knees to pray! You fucking coward."

Steve glared at him. "Yeah? Well I remember feeling like shit when you came home smelling like some dame. I remember feeling like I wanted to kill you for listening to me when I told you to! Like I wasn't enough - because I wasn't!"

Barnes blinked, startled.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "I remember feeling like I had no right to you," he said, more quietly. "Feeling like if it wasn't for me, you could be happy. And I remember sending you away, Buck. To hell with you if you think it didn't tear me apart too."

"You're giving him ammunition against you," said Natasha, reaching out to pause the recording. "You know that, right?"

"I have to be honest with him."

"There's being honest, and then there's handing him information he can use against you. How guilty you feel over what happened. How much you wanted to stay with him. How you would've done anything for him then, and you'll do anything for him now."

"You think he doesn't know that already?"

"No, I think he knows all of that. I think you need to stop giving him more, though."

"Treat him like the enemy, is what you're saying."

"This is for his protection as well as our own. We don't let him have sharp objects or metal or glass or anything that can be made into a garrote or a projectile. This is the same thing."

Steve set his jaw and Natasha tamped down her own frustration. This had to be incredibly difficult for him, she knew that, but...

She paused for a moment, marshaling her thoughts. "SHIELD agents are told in training to always be aware of exactly what conversations we have with other people," she finally said. "It's not uncommon for two people to have two different conversations at the same time: yours may be about the weather, but theirs may be about trying to get into a secure area. You need to be aware of your own goals, and theirs."

Steve frowned at her, puzzled at the non-sequitur, and she leaned forward. "The conversation you're having with him is about reaching him, and helping him," she said. "It may be about that for him too. It's also likely that his conversation is about getting you to feel guilty, to go back to seeing him as your lover again, in order to manipulate you into helping him get out."

"I can't - even after all this time, I can't see him as the enemy."

"Part of him _is_ the enemy, Steve. To you and to himself. If you're going to help the part of him that isn't - assuming that part exists - you're going to have to be more careful."

Steve nodded.

She noted the time stamp on the screen, forwarding it slightly and seeing that moments after this spot, Steve had left as Barnes's afternoon therapist showed up for the behind-the-screen session.

"Did you go back in after the therapist was done?" Steve shook his head. "That's probably a good thing. How do you feel about what happened in there?"

"That's why I called you. I'm too close to this. I don't know how I feel. It just felt... off."

"And how do you feel in general?"

"Honestly?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "No, lie to me."

His lips twitched. "Oh in that case, just peachy."

"Of course. Now tell me the truth."

Steve took a deep breath. "Seeing him like this. Having to treat him like a stranger. Not being able to - to touch him, to be with him again." He swallowed. "It's... it's a lot harder than I thought it would be." He gazed at the paused recording. "Now I understand how he felt, when I was always on the verge of death and there was nothing he could do."

Natasha reached out and put a hand on his arm. "You called me here to ask my professional opinion about whether he's manipulating you or not, right?" Steve nodded. "I think you're asking more than that."

He stared at her blankly.

"I think you want to know if I think he's a person or a weapon - a bunch of trained responses and impulses. Whether he's a human being any more." She paused. "Whether he's _your_ human being."

He looked away. "Maybe."

"Whether any part of James is still Bucky." He swallowed. "Can I ask you something? Why did you go to those bars? Why did you ask Sharon out for coffee?"

He blinked, startled. "Uh. I was curious. Why?"

"I think you were getting over him."

He swallowed but didn't look away. "I, no - maybe. I... I didn't want to be alone any more, Nat. And Sharon - I didn't know how to ask a guy for a date. I'm not good at it with women either, but at least I know some of the rules." He cleared his throat. "And I went to those bars because I thought maybe I could... at least... you know." He flushed. "It was something, anyway."

"It was you starting to get over losing him," Natasha insisted.

"That's academic now, isn't it?"

"Is it? Or are you starting to consider that you may not be able to do anything else to help Barnes? And that you may have to get over him again?"

Steve pressed his lips together, blue eyes darkening.

"Maybe you also need to consider that even if he is able to get out of here some day, even if he can get better... maybe it's healthy to want to get on with your life. I know you two have a history, but maybe it's... history." Steve frowned at her. "He can still be your friend. He doesn't have to be your lover."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Steve said softly.

"I get loyalty," Natasha said evenly. "I get friendship, and debt. I don't get star-crossed lovers and eternal love, no." She gazed at him, frustrated. "It's not a betrayal of what you had if you move on, Steve. Not if he's a different person." Steve opened his mouth to reply and she pressed on. "Would the person he was have done what he's done?" She gestured to the screen. "Not as the Winter Soldier, but now, while he's been with us. Would he have said any of the kinds of things he's saying to you now?"

"He wasn't perfect, you know," said Steve, bristling. "He was a real son of a bitch sometimes. And a manipulative bastard. He called it charm, but it wasn't always so charming. And he was very good at getting what he wanted."

"Is that why he said it was his fault that you got caught during the War?" she asked.

As she'd suspected he would, Steve dropped his gaze and flushed. "We, uh, we didn't get a lot of chances to..." he cleared his throat again. "To be intimate. I was OK with it, but he could be very... um... persuasive."

"Could he."

"He... talked me into it one night when we were out in the field."

"And you went along with it? Even though it could get you court-martialed?"

"It... it should've been safe. The men were in another building - we thought. And I... I missed him too."

Natasha nodded. "So your judgment has always been impaired when it comes to him." Great. Good to know. She tilted her head, curious. "So what happened?"

"Uh, Morita and Jones overheard us. Told the other men. They confronted us the next day, then went to Phillips."

Natasha nodded, imagining what that conversation must have been like, but gauging from the mortification emanating from Steve that that was probably as much as he would be willing to tell her. And that was probably enough putting him on the defensive for now, she decided abruptly. "You know, I did some research on them when we were thinking of getting their testimony for Barnes," she said, leaning back. "Did you know that Morita and Dugan both argued in favor of Don't Ask, Don't Tell?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Morita was retired by then. He'd made a name for himself representing Japanese internment camp victims for a few decades. He came in and made a pretty impassioned defense of gay soldiers. Compared what people were saying about gay soldiers disrupting unit cohesiveness to what people had said about racially integrated units, and pointed out the Commandos' record during the War."

Steve shook his head, bemused.

"Dugan wrote in too. Said it was about damned time people focused on what soldiers did in the battlefield and not in the bedroom."

"Would've been nice to hear that during the War," said Steve quietly. "Though they were getting better, by the end. Good enough that Bucky was starting to talk about staying together after the War..." he trailed off and tears suddenly sprang to his eyes.

"Steve?"

He gazed at the frozen screen before him, then covered his face with his hands and leaned forward slightly, taking deep breaths. Natasha waited patiently as he steadied himself. "Nat, why couldn't I stop this from happening to him?" he finally said, his voice hushed. "Why can't I make this better for him now?"

"Because you're not that kind of superhero," said Natasha. "And it may be that you can't undo seventy years of torture and abuse and conditioning, no matter how much you want to."

He put his hands down. "I can't give up on him. I won't."

"Nobody's asking you to. But you have to think about yourself as well. It's not a sin to take steps to protect yourself from him hurting you."

"Bucky and I have never _not_ hurt each other," he said bitterly. "Being with him has always hurt."

"On a scale of one to ten, how's this?" she asked gently. "And please be honest. For his sake."

He was silent for a long time. "Bad. Like barbed wire being pulled through my gut, every single time I look at him."

She gazed at him. Something was going to break, she knew it. She just hoped it wasn't Steve himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. [Chrononauts](http://www.looneylabs.com/games/chrononauts) is a real game, and one of my very favourite ones in the world. You can win by manipulating the timeline or by gathering historical artifacts like dinosaurs, the Mona Lisa, and a videotape of the origin of the universe. As a ginormous history nerd, I usually manipulate the timeline - which sometimes requires me to save Hitler and keep John Lennon dead, ugh :/ 
>   2. When Don't Ask Don't Tell was instituted in 1993, it was a compromise between people who wanted gays to serve openly and those who wanted to continue the practice of actively rooting out gays. It said that soldiers like Steve and Bucky _could_ serve, as long as they were discreet, and if they were discovered, would be honorably discharged. In my headcanon, both Dugan and Morita would've preferred they be allowed to serve openly, but figured it wasn't gonna happen. 
>   3. Um, bad stuff coming up. Please heed tags and stuff, OK?
> 



	5. It's the hardest thing I've ever done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, justlikeluna and EyeMCSM! You guys rock.
> 
> This chapter got so long, it got split into two, with the entirety of my most massive writer's block ever going into the second part. I will post it exactly one week from today. _Never_ been stuck like that before, folks. Ever. So sorry for the humongous delay.

1.

Natasha contemplated Barnes as he wiped his face, both of them still breathing hard from their sparring session in his living room. Despite having decided that they would be doing formalized movements only, it had been quite a workout. Not the least because, as she worked with him, she was continually observing his strengths and weaknesses, as well as trying to observe him observing her.

It was intriguing, dealing with Barnes. Trying to figure out what was going on with him, figure out his angle. It was a challenge, and when she worked with him - whether physically or mentally, playing board games and chatting - she felt sharper. Focused.

Not heartbroken, like Steve did.

He could be charming and bluntly honest, she thought as they started to put the living room back in order. There was obvious intelligence and effort to learn, to gather his scattered wits, and to control himself. To rise above the destructive impulses that had been beaten into him.

But she often saw great and sometimes overwhelming temptation to slide back to the familiar and take refuge in what he knew. Which was violence and following internal directives that told him to view everyone as the enemy. Observe, catalogue, and use his subjects' weaknesses against them.

And not be confined or manipulated, by anybody.

“Good thing Stark’s got deep pockets,” said Barnes, putting a broken chair at the front door for Natasha to take with her when she left.

“And an engineer’s love for a challenge,” Natasha agreed. Tony was almost gleeful whenever any of them actually broke anything, and always promised better design or materials or both for the replacements.

And Barnes had broken the chair so easily. He was so damn strong - far stronger than Steve, who could match him in terms of the Serum but didn’t have what Tony called the psycho-killer arm. Not to mention lacking Barnes’s ruthlessness and viciousness.

She stepped into the washroom and splashed water on her face, wincing at a pulled muscle. He’d pulled back from pushing his advantage when she’d fallen, but she’d seen the temptation to push forward, to take her out.

She released her hair from its ponytail and brushed her fingers through it. She’d shower later, after his therapist came in.

“Sure wish we could go to that gym Clint always goes on about,” Barnes said casually as she came back into the living room. “The archery range alone sounds amazing.”

Natasha nodded, well able to imagine his frustration as he tried to deal with his captivity. She still remembered her own first days at SHIELD. Her suspicion of everyone around her - and the mistrust wafting like a near-palpable miasma from nearly everyone she saw every day. The weariness of dealing with that. The frustration, the doubts she'd had, wondering if she'd done the right thing by turning herself in. The growing awareness, from close contact with normal people - or what passed for normal, given SHIELD - that she was fatally flawed and stunted in so many ways by her own training and upbringing.

And she hadn't even had seventy years of freezing, memory loss and a deep-seated compulsion to get the hell out of SHIELD to fight against.

They finished pushing the coffee table back into place and Barnes pushed his hair back from his face, then grimaced and tied it back in a ponytail. He'd mentioned wanting to cut it once or twice but there was an obvious reluctance to let anyone near him with anything sharp, and it didn't seem like a huge priority to him. She'd also wondered - and shared her curiosity with Sam and Clint - if he really wanted to cut it to be more comfortable or to look more like the man Steve had loved.

She suppressed a sigh of relief as a chime sounded, letting Barnes know that his therapist had arrived and was ready in the observation room. Barnes gave her a distracted wave as he headed off to his session, and she went downstairs to the common area.

“How's it going?” she asked Steve, who seemed to be disinterestedly working on a crossword puzzle. He shrugged, continuing the crossword, no attempt to engage with her. He'd become more and more withdrawn over the week, as Barnes became moodier and more distracted, and brought up their shared past more and more often.

She got herself a glass of milk, observing Steve and thinking of the man she’d left behind to talk to a therapist through a screen, because he couldn’t be trusted having one in his apartment. She'd taken to watching Barnes and Steve’s recorded interactions, prickles of unease going through her at some of what she saw.

“I used to worry about you a lot, didn't I?” Barnes had asked at one point.

“Yeah. Most of our lives.”

“'Cause you were sick. I kept thinking you were gonna die.”

“You remember that?”

“Flashes. You getting beaten up, too. Just images of your face with a split lip.” He'd reached out and touched Steve's bottom lip gently and then withdrawn, frowning. “Also remember being ashamed. All the time. And scared. Wanting to protect you, be near you, but it...felt strange. Like I wasn't allowed.”

Steve had taken a deep breath and Barnes had dropped it. She'd watched them both, noting the spike in Steve's vital signs at the touch, the steadiness of the readings coming from Barnes. Noticed how Barnes went back to normal, but Steve was thrown off and pensive for the rest of the afternoon.

There were a lot of parallels between them, Natasha noted. Now Barnes was the one who had been hurt, and Steve wanted to protect him, be near him. And he certainly gave the impression of being ashamed of his feelings for Barnes, as though he wasn't allowed to have them. Was Barnes exploiting all of that?

“What was it like for you after you woke up?” Barnes had asked another day.

Steve had hesitated.

“Did you mourn me?”

“Every day,” said Steve.

“How? Did you go to my grave?”

Steve had nodded. “And I... I thought about you all the time. It wasn't... it wasn't very easy to get motivated.”

“Did you talk to therapists about me?”

Steve shook his head. “I talked in sort of general terms about feeling like I was in the wrong time. I didn't know - I didn't realize that it was OK to be... to be like we were, until I'd been talking to the SHIELD therapist for a while, and then it seemed kind of awkward to bring it up.”

“Awkward?” Barnes had given him a calculating stare. “Or did you want to protect your macho image?”

Steve had shaken his head. “There wasn't much macho image to protect.”

“Did you cry?”

“Almost every night, for the first few months,” said Steve, his voice neutral. Barnes had frowned pensively, made a small move towards him - and then pulled back.

Had that been deliberate?

God, it was like trying to take care of a barely caged tiger. One with intelligence and cunning and trust issues that made Natasha's own seem almost childlike.

“Any plans for today?” she asked Steve now, breaking the silence.

Steve shrugged and looked up at her. “Not much. Just waiting for Sam. We need to go over some stuff.”

“Such as?”

Steve shrugged. “Talking about increased moodiness, withdrawn symptoms, what it might mean.”

“Oh good, I was hoping I wouldn't have to bring it up,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding. He looked up at her, puzzled. “You've been pretty down lately.”

Steve blinked, then shook his head. “No, not me; Bucky. Sam's not - he's not my therapist, he's-”

“Maybe somebody should be,” said Natasha. Steve's eyes shuttered and he pressed his lips together.

“I'm not the priority,” he said.

“No. But you're doing a piss-poor job of keeping yourself from getting sucked in by him to the point where you can't help him.”

“In your opinion.”

Natasha nodded, conceding the point. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

“How was the sparring session?” asked Steve, obviously attempting to change the subject.

“Good,” said Natasha. “He kept control.”

Steve nodded.

“Are you and Sam going to talk about how he’s reaching out for you more?” asked Natasha, not letting him change the subject.

Steve stiffened slightly. “If it comes up,” he said. 

“How are his nightmares?”

“He doesn't seem to have many. Some when he first came in - being chased, being shot - but not so much any more.”

“Really?”

“I was expecting him to. With everything that’s happened to him, everything he’s seen...”

“And everything he’s done,” said Natasha.

Steve shrugged uncomfortably.

“He doesn’t seem to let it bother him much,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.

“He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault.”

“True.”

Steve sighed. “Sometimes he seems pretty... blank.” He glanced down at his crossword puzzle. “He’s never... never broken down in therapy. Never cried, that anyone’s ever seen him. Never shown much emotion. Flat affect, the therapists call it.”

“Except for anger. And frustration.”

“I was worried that he’d feel guilty,” said Steve. “He remembers a lot of what he did - even remembers feeling pleasure when he got the shot. Luckily he also remembers fighting them as hard as he could.”

“And being told over and over again that he was doing the right thing,” Natasha noted.

“That too.”

“It’s still disconcerting to you that he doesn’t feel guilty,” said Natasha. “Even though you’re relieved, you’re still uneasy.”

Steve chewed on his lip, nodding slowly. “I keep reminding myself that he deserves a clean conscience,” he said, his voice low. “But...”

“Was he particularly prone to guilt before?”

Steve gave a brief chuckle. “We were raised by nuns, Natasha. Guilt is part of the package.”

“From your stories, it doesn’t seem to have affected a lot of his behavior.”

“Not always, no,” said Steve with a small smile.

“Did he feel guilty when he almost got you court martialed?”

Steve, predictably, blushed slightly. “Yeah. I had to talk him out of that. It was my fault too. But it was hard for him to set it aside.”

“And now he’s just calmly set aside seventy years of assassinations and destruction. Men, women and children. Some pretty vicious stuff in there.”

“You make him sound…” He paused. “He was... you don't know what he was like, before.” He met her eyes and she was struck by the intensity there. “He wasn’t just a hero. He was one of the best human beings I knew. I wasn't just in love with him. I admired him. And they... what they did to him, they - nobody should be treated like that.”

“I know, Steve.”

Steve rubbed his forehead. “I was asleep, I was in ice, and the person I would've died for - the man I _did_ die for, was being treated worse than an animal, and turned into-”

“None of that is your fault,” said Natasha gently. “And if they turned him into something less than human-“ Steve made a slight noise of protest in his throat but Natasha continued, “you may not be doing him any favors by continually reminding yourself - or Barnes, for that matter - of who he was. He may never be able to be that person again.”

“Do you think he'd be better off if I wasn't here?” Steve asked abruptly, and Natasha blinked.

“I don't know. Maybe. Maybe it would be easier for him to be around people who don't know what he was like. Maybe he wouldn't have the temptation of having somebody around who he can twist around his little finger. Who will give him the benefit of the doubt, whether he deserves it or not.”

Steve nodded.

Maybe that was the only way to get Steve to detach, if he thought it was for Barnes's sake. If only Natasha was sure that that was the best option.

2.

Natasha walked into Bucky's living room the next day to find Bucky and Clint playing Wii tennis. Clint was speaking dispassionately as he served the ball.

“It's the clarity of the memories that's really hard,” he was saying, as Barnes nodded. “It's so crystal clear. I remember the images, everything I thought. And I can't help thinking... if I'd just tried a little harder, you know?”

Barnes nodded, his eyes shadowed, and returned a high ball flawlessly.

Clint took a deep breath. “I mean, I was able to do some stuff. Like, I didn't take the kill shot with Fury. That was good. But... I killed a whole bunch of other people. Agents. People I'd worked with.” His next hit flicked the net, but went over. “One of my friends had just had a kid. I’d bought his kid a onesie with a little bow and arrow a few weeks before Loki. Had to go to his funeral and look at his widow in the face.” He served again, swearing under his breath as he missed.

“I didn't know any of my victims,” said Barnes, waiting for Clint to serve again. “Except Stark. I can still see them, though.” He returned a serve easily. “Sometimes I don't want to.”

This really wasn't the right time to pull Clint out, not when Barnes might be on the verge of opening up to someone who wasn't a therapist, but...

“Clint, can I talk to you?” asked Natasha, and he looked at her, annoyed. Barnes's eyebrows went up, then he glanced at Clint.

“Must be Avengers business,” he said. “You know she wouldn't pull you out otherwise.”

Clint followed her out of the room, subdued, and Natasha suddenly wondered if Barnes had any idea how much it messed Clint up to talk about Loki. Wondered if he had the slightest clue how much all of them suffered, to help him.

“What's up?” Clint looked around at the overfilled observation room, where Maria, Steve, Tony and Sam sat around the chairs, and a guard kept watch over the screens. “Damn. Somebody's pissed in everybody's cereal.”

“He's been connected.”

“What?”

“CNN,” said Steve heavily. “Some reporter did a facial recognition thing, tied Bucky to the Winter Soldier. Tracked down HYDRA secret service documents.”

“And spoke to some sources that I would love to get my hands on,” said Maria.

“Fuck,” Clint swore. “Why can't they concentrate on the Kardashians, and leave actual important stuff to us?”

“Who says journalism is dead?” said Tony.

“So what do we do? How do we keep him here?”

“They want to question Steve, of course,” said Maria. “And probably all of us, eventually.” She took out a stack of notes and started to pass them around. “This is all hard copy only, no electronic copies. Basically, we're going to stall. We're going to only give them written responses that we can control, keep up the appearance of cooperation as much as possible, but keep it all written.”

“How are you pulling that one off?”

“Very important HYDRA stuff going on,” said Natasha seriously. “Steve's going to be out of the country.”

“Damn.” Clint glanced over at Steve.

“He’s also going to make it clear that although he has information on the Winter Soldier, he doesn’t want it - or the Winter Soldier - to fall into the wrong hands,” said Maria. “We’ve found HYDRA in government positions--”

“That's not going to fly,” Clint pointed out grimly. “What’s left of the good guys at SHIELD are being hunted down, and the government doesn’t care that they keep saying they’re trying to fight HYDRA. They’re not listening to any excuses.”

“They'll have to,” said Maria. “We will let them know that we've spent a great deal of time trying to track down the Winter Soldier, and that we’re not going to share most of what we’ve discovered. They don't have to know that we've found him. Not for a while at least.”

“Maria...” Steve said softly, shaking his head and looking over the notes.

“It'll be fine,” said Natasha. “You won’t be required to lie on the spot - you’re terrible at that anyway - because you’ll be unavailable for live interviewing. And if I am, not a problem. I've spoken in front of Senate committees before.”

“Same here,” smirked Tony. “Piece of cake.”

“Here,” said Maria. She handed Steve a script. “We're filming you right away.”

Steve swallowed. “What, right now?”

Natasha nodded. “Now. Best time for it. Give the appearance of immediate cooperation.”

They stood and moved aside, with Tony speaking softly to JARVIS to set up filming and getting Steve into the light, and Steve looking over the paper Maria had given him. He jotted down some additional points of his own as he and Maria modified the script she’d written for him.

“Ready whenever you are,” said Tony, holding up a Starkpad in camera mode.

Steve looked at Tony, then down at the paper, and started without preamble.

“You want to know if I knew the identity of the Winter Soldier,” he read off his script, then looked up at the Starkpad. “Yes, I did. I recognized him during the fight when I was arrested by SHIELD. I didn’t say anything at the time because I was a fugitive from SHIELD - and HYDRA - and then after both were brought down I didn’t know who to trust.” He paused. “We know that there are elements of HYDRA within various governments worldwide. The more I found out about him, the more determined I was to not let him fall back into HYDRA’s hands. We determined early on that he was running from them. From that point on, our efforts became focused on getting to him before HYDRA did. We did not know who to trust, and could not risk contacting the government for help.”

Natasha sat and watched as Steve went on, calmly and methodically responding to the questions they had been sent. They had kept the script simple and forthright, as he explained that the Winter Soldier was very good at hiding, that they had also been concerned about the danger he posed to the public, that their priority had been protecting the public first and protecting Bucky Barnes second.

That they believed he needed help, after suffering years of abuse under HYDRA, and were determined to get it for him.

It was simple, it was heartfelt. It was Steve being Captain America, using the power of his appeal to man’s better nature.

It had always been inspiring in the past. They just had to hope it would do the trick this time too.

Steve paused. He cleared his throat and composed himself, putting the piece of paper down.

“I fought him, on the Helicarrier. It's the hardest thing I've ever done,” he said, and Natasha glanced at Maria, who was looking slightly alarmed. Steve going off-script, then. Oh well; at least he was good on his feet, as long as it didn’t involve deception. “But I didn't have a choice - it was him or millions of innocent people, and I know what Bucky would have wanted me to do.” He cleared his throat again. “And he recognized me. After I nearly killed him, after I fell from the Helicarrier, he pulled me from the water, unconscious. He didn’t have to do that. Then he disappeared.” He paused again, leaned toward the camera slightly. “He saved my life when he didn’t have to, when his mission was to end it. That’s why I truly believe that he’s more than the weapon HYDRA wanted him to be.”

He took a deep breath and glanced back down at the script. “Those are all the questions I can answer at this time. I would like to share more information, but it’s too dangerous to say more.” He looked down. “I know that the Winter Soldier caused a great deal of damage. But we know what was done to Bucky to make him become the Winter Soldier. There is nobody alive who could have resisted. If I had been in the clutches of HYDRA, the same would have happened to me; to anybody.”

He paused again. “Bucky needs help. I would like to share more information, to get him that help. But I will not risk it if doing so means giving HYDRA information they could use to find him and use him as a weapon again.”

“And cut,” said Maria softly. Natasha nodded and they all let out their breaths.

“You really think that’ll hold them?” asked Clint quietly.

“Not likely,” Tony snorted, breaking the mood. “Not for long. My legal eagles will have their work cut out for them.”

“I have to talk to him,” said Steve. “Let him know what’s going on.”

Maria nodded and Steve headed into the apartment. Natasha came to look over the recording, working through it with Maria to make sure Steve wasn’t saying anything incriminating or anything that was technically untrue. Because in all likelihood, someday somebody would figure out that Barnes had been in the next room when Steve had made this video, and Steve’s credibility would be shot. If at all possible, they wanted to keep his words at least factually true, so he could defend himself and point out he hadn’t actually lied.

Satisfied that the recording was helpful while not revealing anything and not _technically_ lying, Maria and Tony left to contact the authorities with Steve’s statement and Natasha finally looked over at the monitor to Barnes’s rooms. Steve and Barnes were in the sitting room, the Wii still sitting abandoned from his game with Clint, Steve sitting on the small coffee table in front of Barnes and talking to him earnestly. Barnes looked down at his hands and chewed on his lip.

“What’s happened?” she asked Clint and Sam.

“He’s explained what’s going on to Bucky,” said Clint. “And they’re talking about whether Bucky should turn himself in.”

Natasha glanced over at him. “Really?”

Clint shrugged. “Well, he offered. Anybody who’s ever met Steve knows he wouldn’t go for it for even a second, so who knows if he meant it or not.”

They looked at the monitor together.

“We won't let you go,” Steve was saying earnestly. “ _I_ won't let you go.”

“It's hard to believe that.”

“I'm with you til the end of the line, you know that,” Steve said softly, and put his hand on Barnes's shoulder. Barnes looked up at him, then shifted closer on the couch, slipping a hand up his arm, their eyes locking together.

Natasha could see Steve's pulse pick up, see his breathing hitch.

“Bucky,” Steve said softly.

“Should I move back?” asked Barnes.

Steve bit his lip nervously. “I...”

Barnes swallowed and moved a hand to Steve's hair.

“Bucky...” Steve breathed, and Natasha could hear the longing in his voice. Damn it. Damn it, no, back up, back off...

Barnes leaned into Steve's space, and now his own heart rate was accelerating - which could be an indication that he was emotionally affected or an indication that he was on alert, body going into hyperdrive to ensure the effectiveness of his calculated actions. She tensed.

Barnes was drawing Steve closer, and looking up at him. His eyes were steady in contrast with Steve's, which were dazed and open and damn it, it was like watching a moth being drawn to a flame. Barnes dropped his eyes to Steve's lips.

“We're being watched,” Steve said, his voice husky. “You know that.”

“We're not doing anything wrong,” said Barnes. “Are we?”

“I told you...” said Steve.

“Tell me to stop,” said Barnes, and leaned closer, brushing his lips with Steve's. “Tell me you don't want this.”

Steve closed his eyes, trembling, and put a hand on Barnes's chest, pausing him, his heart racing, and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes again, gazing down at Barnes. “You said that before. Do you remember?”

Barnes shook his head slowly.

“We'd been apart for months. You came back. We’d said, just friends, we’d said just brothers, and then you...” he voice roughened and he stopped. “You came back and you kissed me and you said, ‘Tell me to stop.’”

“Did you?”

Steve reluctantly shook his head. Barnes gave him a small smile and carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve let out his breath in a sigh and closed his eyes again as they slowly kissed. Natasha chewed on her lip, glancing at their readings. Both were fully aroused, both evidently agitated and really, considering what else was going on maybe letting Barnes have something comforting was the human thing to do...

Steve took a deep breath. “Bucky, this isn't...”

“I know we're being watched,” said Barnes quietly. “But we're not doing anything wrong.” He came back for another kiss; Steve sighed and kissed him back. “What are you afraid of?”

“Messing with your head,” said Steve gently, one hand moving up to cup Barnes’s cheek. He shook his head. “There’s so much you don't remember. You... I don't know if you really do want me. If you even know what you want.”

“I know what I want,” said Barnes steadily. “I wasn't - I wasn't allowed to want anything. For a really long time.”

Steve made a low noise in his throat, his heart in his eyes.

Dirty play, Barnes, thought Natasha.

“But I know what I want now,” Barnes continued. “I don't know if it's leftover from what the man I used to be felt for you, or... or something new. I only know what I want, now.” He kissed Steve again, and Steve shivered, returning the kiss for a long moment.

Natasha glanced at Sam and Clint, reaching out for the intercom button and raising her eyebrows.

Sam gave a heavy sigh. “They're both grown men,” he pointed out quietly.

“Steve's judgment is shit when it comes to Barnes,” Natasha said.

“Yeah. And he's a grown man.” He pressed his lips together grimly. “And Barnes may be going away for a long time soon enough. They may not have a lot of time left together.”

“Bucky,” Steve whispered, and even over the monitor the anguish in his voice was palpable.

“I know,” Bucky answered him. He slowly sat back, moving his hand down to Steve’s and lacing their fingers together briefly before letting go. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“I...” Steve's voice sounded wrecked, and Barnes gave him a small smile. “Bucky, we _can't_. The others are right; it’s not a good idea, and...”

“Story of our lives, isn't it?” asked Barnes wryly.

Steve gave a shaky laugh.

“Guys,” said Sam slowly. “I think it’s time to leave them alone. Whatever happens, happens. I don’t feel like standing in their way any more.”

Natasha waited for either of the others to raise the obvious question. “And what if Barnes is just using Steve?” she asked, when it was clear nobody else would.

“What if he’s not?” asked Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, see you next week with Part II of the Chapter of Doom. ::sigh::


	6. How can I prove it to you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed warnings. Notes at the end of the chapter, referencing pretty much the entire chapter from about a quarter of the way in to the end.

1.

“What’s happened?” Natasha asked a week later, walking into the observation room. On the monitor, a gray-faced Steve was standing in the doorway of the bedroom and speaking to Barnes, who was nodding grimly and putting away folded clothing. A guard was keeping an eye on the monitors while Sam, Clint, Maria and Tony sat around the small coffee table.

“Nothing good,” said Maria. “The HYDRA excuse is officially no longer sufficient.”

Natasha nodded. With Steve's non-statements, they’d been able to make it sound like it was only Steve, Natasha and Sam who were looking for Barnes. Possibly with some technical support from Stark Industries, because of Stark’s desire to atone for having helped SHIELD with the Helicarriers. They’d all known it wouldn’t keep the hounds happy for long without more details, though.

“Justice Department’s ultimatum,” said Sam, sliding a piece of paper over in Natasha’s direction She quickly skimmed over it. _Requesting the presence of Steven G. Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Samuel T. Wilson...answer before select committee... confidential hearings... turn over all material pertaining to James Buchanan Barnes..._ ”

“We can delay on Sam’s testimony for a while,” said Maria. “And if necessary we’ve got information prepared that will make it sound like we know Barnes is in a safe facility... somewhere, possibly far-off. Possibly taking advantage of Stark security.”

“We’re wavering between that or a goat shack in Tibet,” said Sam.

“The shit is gonna hit the fan when they realize the goat shack is in fucking Manhattan, Sam,” said Clint.

“That’ll take a while,” said Tony confidently. “Pepper’s legal geniuses have them buried so deep in bullshit they don't know what the hell is hitting them.”

“It won’t take forever though.”

“That’s why we’re discussing what to do next,” said Maria. “We’re thinking it’s not just Steve who needs to get out of Dodge; it’s Barnes too.”

“Out of the country? That’ll be awkward when it comes up.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” said Maria. “Steve needs to leave before he's arrested and forced to answer their questions directly. 

We’re pretty sure they’ve been analyzing his movements. And Barnes... well. He needs time, and he’s not going to get it if he stays here. And Clint’s right. The visuals when the American public finds out that they were right next to a lethal weapon for months...”

“This place is safe,” Tony protested. “We worked hard to make it safe.”

“SHIELD safehouses are also safe,” Maria retorted. “Especially the ones the Armed Forces don’t know about, off US soil.”

“So it’s a waiting game?” asked Natasha. “We’re delaying until Barnes is stable enough to release him to the outside world? We still think it’ll happen eventually?”

Sam looked uncomfortable.

“Speaking of which, how's he doing?” asked Maria.

“This couldn't have come at a worse time,” said Sam. “He's getting paranoid.”

“About HYDRA?”

“About everything. But yes, HYDRA in particular. We've tried to tell him that all the ‘HYDRA’s after him’ stuff we’re saying is just to keep the government off our tail, but...”

“How's that going over?” asked Maria.

Clint drew a deep breath, glancing at the observation screen, where Steve and Barnes were standing closer together and Steve was talking earnestly. “Bucky's not an idiot. He's smart enough to know that yeah, we’re probably exaggerating, but...”

And he was Bucky now, not Barnes any more. They'd bonded too. “He’s not an idiot, but he _is_ paranoid,” she pointed out.

“Can't blame him.”

“He’s been moody,” said Sam. “And he keeps checking over his entire apartment. Kind of obsessively.”

“Trying to get out?” asked Maria.

“Not as far as we can tell. Just checking everything. If anything, sometimes it looks like he’s trying to secure himself from outside attack.”

“What's he gonna do?” asked Tony skeptically. “Try and hold out against anyone who comes to get him? Turn that floor into a hidey-hole, in the middle of one of the most recognizable buildings in Manhattan?”

Sam shrugged. “All right, so it wouldn’t work well if the Armed Forces came after him, but maybe he hopes that if HYDRA comes after him he can hold out long enough for the cavalry to come rescue him.”

“What'll we do, if it comes to that?” asked Maria. “Our government, that is. What if they come to get him and he makes it difficult for them?”

“We can sedate him, you know that,” said Sam. “That’s what we did after he attacked Bruce.”

“He won't be taken alive,” said Natasha. “He’s said that already. If he knows they're coming in, he will kill himself.”

“How, exactly?” asked Maria.

“He’ll figure something out,” said Natasha. Maria glanced at the screen again and did an almost comical double-take. Natasha followed her gaze. Steve had put an arm around Barnes and was holding his hand. He brought it to his lips, speaking to him earnestly.

“You have to trust me,” Steve was saying. “If you _are_ moved, you’ll be going somewhere safe. I won’t let anyone take you--”

Barnes was shaking his head, a grim smile on his face. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he said. “I remember thinking you’d come get me for years after they took me.” Steve looked stricken, and Barnes ran a hand through his hair, then leaned in and kissed him. “I know, I know you would’ve come if you’d been able to,” he murmured between kisses. “But you’re only human.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a thing,” Tony said, with only a slight smirk at Maria. “The lovebirds have been getting cozier.”

“Is that wise?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably not. We’re a little concerned that Barnes may be manipulating Steve.” He sighed. “But there’s not a lot we can do about it.” He cleared his throat, giving the monitor screen a quick glance. “Except, you know, give them some privacy.”

Tony chuckled as the rest of them all turned slightly, deliberately facing away from the screen. “Privacy. With a guard on duty, and every breath and heartbeat being recorded. Sure.”

Maria rolled her eyes at him. “How's he doing, really?” she asked Sam and Natasha. “Would you ever trust him out of here?”

“I don't know,” said Sam. “On the one hand, he's doing better. He's got a lot more of his memory back, and he's still got a lot of crap to work through but he's been able to process a lot of stuff.”

“What about his PTSD?” asked Maria. She glanced around at them. “Pretend I’m a government drone. Convince me that some day he’ll be safe to be out of a maximum security installation.”

“He was out, for months, and only killed HYDRA operatives,” Clint pointed out.

“What's to stop him from killing non-HYDRA people if he decides they're HYDRA?” asked Maria.

“He doesn't do that,” Clint protested. “He’s not some wild animal--”

“Has he been violent to non-HYDRA?”

Clint sat back. “Well... yeah,” he admitted. “Damn it.”

“What if they find out about the attack on the therapist?” asked Natasha.

“That wasn't an attack outta nowhere, though,” said Clint. “He was just trying to get out--”

“He triggered Bruce.”

“You could say the same thing about Bruce,” said Clint. “That he needs to be kept away from anything dangerous. So why don’t we have him locked up?”

Natasha shook her head. “Bruce let himself get triggered rather than let Barnes out, and then he didn't cause damage to anything other than Stark’s property.”

“It’s just hard to tell with Barnes,” said Sam. “Even the, you know, reaching out to Steve.” He gestured vaguely to the screen behind them, where Steve was leaning against the wall of the bedroom and holding Barnes, cupping his cheek and speaking to him gently. “It could be manipulation, or it could be he’s genuinely reaching out. Recovering what he and Steve used to have. Taking back something HYDRA took from him.”

Natasha nodded, remembering how important human touch and human connection could be. “Unfortunately he doesn’t have a lot of impulse control,” she pointed out. “He gets angry and frustrated easily. He spent so long being forced to suppress everything that now that he doesn’t have to... it’s not always a good thing.”

“He’s unpredictable, is what you’re saying,” said Maria. “That isn’t good.”

“Give the guy a break,” said Clint. “Even speaking in complete sentences is a major accomplishment. He remembers a lot of his past, he’s dealing with being cooped up, trying to trust us even though he knows we could turn him over and--”

“It’s not about giving him a break, Clint,” said Maria. “It’s about whether we can reassure anybody that we know what we’re doing. And that Barnes - and the rest of the unsuspecting public - wouldn’t be better off with him in a secure facility.”

“I can’t see a secure facility being any safer for the public than here,” said Sam. “So far our secure facility’s had zero breakouts. How many of the Most Wanted have escaped other secure facilities in the last few months?”

Maria nodded glumly and there was a brief silence, broken by Clint, who cleared his throat.

“Uh, is the, uh, human connection thing supposed to include dry-humping against the wall?”

They all turned to the screen, where Barnes had pulled Steve closer and was now kissing him passionately, one thigh between Steve’s and pressing up against him.

“Bucky, no,” Steve was murmuring, pushing Barnes away weakly. “I - you know we’re not supposed to--”

“I don’t give a shit,” said Barnes, pushing him up against the wall next to the door. “Might be our last chance, right? Before you turn me in?”

“To people who might help you.”

“Like HYDRA helped me?”

“Bucky,” Steve kissed him back, then pulled back slightly. “We’re being watched. You know that.” He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, straightening his shirt.

Barnes rested a hand against the door handle briefly, then stepped up to Steve again. “I don’t care,” he said, and kissed him again. “I’m watched all the time,” he muttered. “I’ve been watched for seventy fucking years.” Steve flinched, but let Barnes push against him.

“Bucky, please,” he whispered, and Natasha glanced over at the monitor readings. Heartbeat and temperature elevated, both of them, showing signs of stress - more so on Steve than Barnes - and both aroused.

“You can’t protect me,” said Barnes, kissing his way down Steve’s throat, and Steve closed his eyes in pain. “If the government comes after me, they come after me. And if any of them are HYDRA, I’m done for. For all we know, they could come in later today and I’ll never see you again. I’m not gonna just be a good boy and keep my hands to myself because you’re being delicate and prudish.” Steve’s breath hitched. “Steve. Please. I need you.”

“It’s not - I’m not being prudish,” Steve said hoarsely, his fingers carding through Bucky’s hair. “Bucky, no.” Steve gently pushed Barnes away, and Barnes pushed him back. “Stop it!”

Clint blinked and stood up. “Oh shit.”

“You wanna tell me that you don’t want this as much as I do?” Barnes slid a hand down to Steve’s groin and cupped Steve, none too gently. Steve gasped, eyes sliding shut momentarily, and Barnes chuckled and pressed a rough kiss to his throat. “Don’t lie to me.”

“You _know_ I want - Bucky, no. Please, don’t--” Steve pushed Barnes away, more firmly, his eyes darkening, his pulse running higher. “We can’t - I have to be able to say that you’re not a danger to anyone, that you can control yourself--”

“Fuck control,” said Barnes, sliding a hand down to Steve’s fly and unbuttoning the top button. Steve pushed his hand away, backing away from him, and put a hand on the door handle. He turned it, eyes widening as it remained closed.

Natasha felt her heart skip a beat.

“Oh fuck,” Tony whispered, and all of a sudden all of them were standing and Tony was pushing the guard away from the control panel and tapping on a bunch of keys. On the screen Steve and Barnes were frozen, staring at each other.

“I won’t let anyone in,” said Barnes, his voice shaking. “I won’t let them take me again.”

“Buck, nobody’s trying to take you,” said Steve, stepping away from the door and putting a hand on Barnes’s shoulder. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“I got seventy years tells me you’re wrong,” said Barnes grimly, and pulled Steve closer again. “And I don’t know that you aren’t working for them. Keeping me here so they can take me again.”

“JARVIS, override the locks,” said Tony, giving up on the control panel.

“Wait - he’s got Steve trapped in there?” said Maria. “I thought you said you had security!”

“Sir, I am unable to--”

“We concentrated on making sure he couldn’t get _out_ ,” said Tony, going back to the control panel, hands flying over the keys. “We thought that’s what we were fighting against. Damn it, damn it - JARVIS, the sedative gas controls aren’t responding, when the fuck did he--”

“There appears to be a blockage from inside the room, sir--”

“How can I prove it to you?” asked Steve desperately. “How can I prove that I’m on your side?”

Barnes pulled him closer, taking his mouth in a rough kiss. Steve wrenched himself away, shoving Barnes back. Barnes caught himself on the wall, his eyes widening, then narrowing suspiciously.

“Fuck you, then,” said Barnes, shoving Steve toward the bed. Steve’s calf hit the side of the bed and he steadied himself, backing away from Barnes and staring at him, eyes dark with fear, chest heaving.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said. “Please, please don’t do this--”

“You think you can just keep me in here like some tame pet, following your orders?” Barnes sneered, stalking closer. “Do you have any idea what I’m capable of? Do you have any idea what I live with? What’s one more thing?”

“No!”

Natasha swore. Shit. Shit, shit, shit there was no way this should be happening - with all of their failsafes, they hadn’t thought of this, and Steve was locked in there with him and now Barnes was pushing Steve onto the bed and Steve's heart rate was going into overdrive and he was pushing Barnes off, scrambling out from under him, shouting at him. “Bucky, this isn't - not now, not like this!”

“Fuck you - you trying to protect me? Think I can't ‘meaningfully consent’? Well I might be going away forever, do you understand that? I consent. I consent as much as I'm ever going to!”

“I _don't!_ ”

“What about Banner--” Maria began.

“The walls are Hulk-proof,” Tony said grimly, sitting back. “Shit, shit shit - the nearest workable suit is going to take at least fifteen minutes to blast through - JARVIS, send the suit--”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve been playing me this whole time, haven’t you?” Barnes was raging, and Steve shook his head, struggling and throwing Barnes off him momentarily. “Using the fact that we used to be together - did they bring you in here to control me?”

“Bucky, you don’t want to do this,” said Sam into the intercom, and Barnes gave an ugly laugh and pinned Steve’s chest down with his metal arm, pulling Steve’s shirt from his pants.

Natasha saw the moment Steve realized his position, as he glanced at the door that he’d failed to open and added that to the fact that Sam was talking into the intercom instead of crashing into the room with the team, or raining some sort of sedative down from the vents.

“That’s right,” Barnes sneered, as Steve’s struggles faltered. “I got rid of the sedative gas days ago, I’ve locked the doors, and this entire apartment was built for the Hulk and as far as I know he’s not here.” His eyes were glittering and his chest heaving. “Just you and me in here, pal.”

Steve took a deep, shaking breath and then let it out, and didn’t resist as Barnes pushed him back onto the bed and took his mouth in another brutal kiss. He lay back, breath and heartbeat racing, eyes closed as Barnes bit at the side of his neck.

“That’s better,” growled Barnes, and Steve winced, then raised a hand to touch Barnes’s hair.

“Damn it, shit shit shit, there’s gotta be something here--” Tony said, blasting the wall and doorframe with one of the gauntlets. The wall stayed solidly impassive. “I was so fucking proud of myself for the weave of these fucking doors and the frame reinforcement--”

“Bucky,” Sam was saying into the intercom. “Think about this. He doesn’t want--”

“Seems to be wanting it just fine,” said Barnes, reaching down and quickly removing Steve’s shoes with one hand, then tugging at Steve’s fly. “Off,” he said. Steve swallowed and undid his fly, pulling his pants off.

“The vents,” said Clint. “Tony, can--”

“They’re too small for a person, I’ve got JARVIS sending a bot, but they’re only for cleaning, I’ve never had to - damn it!” Tony said as the wall showed scorch marks and little else. “On the plus side I know I can withstand a siege from the most advanced weaponry on the planet for a while,” he said angrily. “Not that that’s of any fucking use at all.”

“Bucky, we’re coming into the apartment,” said Sam.

“Shut the fuck up,” Barnes said, pushing Steve’s shirt off his shoulders. “If you were, you woulda been here already.” He fumbled at his zipper, biting the side of Steve’s neck again, and Steve was staring up at him, eyes dark and unreadable. “You always did like it rough, didn’t you,” he sneered. Steve swallowed hard and turned his face away.

“Are all the walls in the unit the same material?” Natasha asked Tony, as Sam continued to speak into the intercom.

“Same fucking thing,” Tony said in disgust. “Super-reinforced, I’m so fucking clever.” A chunk of wall fell off. “Not only that but he’s locked the door of the bedroom too, so we’ll have to get through that one too. And the doors are even heavier-duty.” Another chunk came off, and on the screen Barnes had pushed his own pants down. “The ceiling might be better, but by the time we get up there - god damn it...”

On the screen, Barnes was moving over Steve, and Natasha looked away from Steve's pained expression, not wanting to witness. Steve drew in his breath sharply and grasped Barnes by the shoulders, but there was no doubt in Natasha’s mind that he wasn't a full participant.

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Clint said, “Come on, what the actual fuck did you build these with--” and Tony gave a small cry as another chunk of the wall crumbled, showing the sitting room through the small hole.

On the screen Barnes suddenly pulled away, sitting up. Steve was gazing up at him, chest heaving, and Barnes gaped down at him, then backed off the bed, pulling up his pants. He stood, and the observation room froze as Barnes stared at Steve.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” whispered Clint.

Barnes moved to the door, twisted his hand in a quick motion and opened it, then picked a piece of something Natasha couldn’t identify off the floor next to the bed and threw it at the vent, dislodging something that fell to the floor. Steve slowly sat up, wincing.

“Get up,” Barnes whispered, and crouched down to grab Steve’s clothes. He handed them to Steve, his hands shaking. “You’ll wanna get out of this room,” he said, his voice unsteady. “They’re - they’re probably gonna flood it with sedatives any moment now. The front door’ll open if you tug the handle to the left.”

Steve stood and pulled on his pants, moving out of the room as the gas started to come into it and closing the door behind himself. He hurried to the front door and opened it, and Natasha and Clint rushed in, heading for the bedroom.

“Wait - the gas should knock him out in a moment, then you can open the door,” said Tony. “It’s lethal level for us regular humans right now.”

Natasha went to get the restraints for Barnes as Sam and Maria entered the apartment and Steve mechanically put on the rest of his clothing, his face blank.

“Should be clear,” said Tony, and Natasha and Clint put on masks and headed for the bedroom.

“Don’t hurt him,” said Steve.

Natasha entered the bedroom, where Barnes lay slumped on the floor, unconscious. Clint hauled him up onto the bed, and they slapped the restraints onto his wrists and ankles. Natasha grimaced at the rumpled sheets, then rolled Barnes to his side and tugged them up, making the bed under him before rolling Barnes back over again.

“Air’s clear,” said Tony.

She took off her mask. “Watch him,” she said to the guard, who’d come in behind her, ashen and shocked. “If he moves, shoot--” she snapped her mouth shut, then took a deep breath. “He should be out for about an hour. If he wakes up before then, let somebody know.”

She turned away, unable to stomach being in the same room as Barnes and his peaceful expression, and nearly crashed into Steve.

“Steve?” Sam was saying gently as Steve stared into the room, his lip bleeding and his cheek beginning to purple.

“Yeah,” said Steve. “Yeah, I'm all right.”

“You should go to the infirmary,” said Sam.

“Don’t need to,” said Steve. “No permanent damage.”

“Come on,” said Sam. “Let’s go down to see Bruce.”

Steve shook his head, still staring at Barnes.

“He’ll be out for at least an hour,” said Clint. “Humor us.”

Steve chewed on his lip. Finally he gave a curt nod and headed for the elevator, Natasha and Sam following him.

He was utterly silent in the elevator, completely still, his face expressionless. Natasha reached for calm herself, realizing a part of her was still in disbelief that everything had gone so horribly wrong so quickly.

She wondered if he was asking himself the same questions she was. Such as, when had Barnes locked the door? When Steve had shoved him back, or when he’d first entered the room? When had he lost control? _Had_ he lost control, or had he planned something like this all along? And why had he stopped?

Bruce greeted them at the lab, looking like he was doing deep breathing exercises but seeming relatively calm.

“Did Tony say--” Sam began.

“He called down,” said Bruce. “Told me what happened.”

He motioned Steve to the corner of the lab they’d turned into a medical wing -- they’d all become accustomed to getting checked out after getting hurt in the field, or after one of Barnes’s temper tantrums. Steve automatically took off his shirt, seemingly unconcerned about Natasha and Sam’s presence as Bruce examined him, cataloguing his bruises, checking for a concussion and broken bones. Natasha winced at the vivid handprint on Steve’s upper arm, the scrape down his back from being shoved against the wall.

“Well, there’s nothing broken,” said Bruce. “Your ribs are bruised, though. Possibly a hairline fracture on your right wrist.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice rough. “I’ll heal.”

Natasha frowned and reached out. Steve flinched slightly, and she drew her hand back. “Sorry,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “Bruce, did you--”

Bruce nodded. “I saw it, Nat,” he said. “There are a couple of bite marks on the side of your neck,” he told Steve, who immediately touched his neck. “No broken skin though. We already have samples of his saliva; there are some strange molecules in there, we’ve never been able to figure out if they’re deliberate or a side-effect of the Serum. You haven’t shown any effects from it in the past, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Steve stared at him. “What?”

“I thought it would be wise to check after you started becoming more - after you kissed,” Bruce said, and Natasha could feel his wince at almost having called kissing ‘intimate’ considering what had just happened. “I checked your blood and other vital signs discreetly last time you were here, when I told you that you needed a ‘routine’ physical. The molecules in his saliva hadn’t had any effect on you, as far as I could tell.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to do that.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, but I thought it would be prudent. Bodily fluids can transmit a lot nasty stuff.”

Steve swallowed hard, looking ill.

Bruce cleared his throat. “You should have an internal examination too,” he said. Steve recoiled slightly, and quickly shook his head, opening his mouth to object. “You know what we’ve found so far - the thing in his arm, the poison under his fingernails - they had a lab rat that couldn't fight back for seventy years. Who knows what else they did to him?”

Steve grimaced. “What, so they weaponized his dick?” he said harshly “That would be a little weird even for HYDRA, don’t you think?”

“Maybe not deliberately,” said Bruce. “But my own blood and semen are poisonous. He’s had a version of the Serum too, and we don’t know if they used Gamma--”

“I can't be poisoned.”

Bruce gazed at him steadily, and Steve finally blew out his breath and reached for his belt. Natasha and Sam turned around, giving him what privacy they could. The examination table creaked as Steve got onto it, and she heard a sheet rustle and the snap of latex gloves.

“There’s some bruising here,” said Bruce after a moment, his voice steady. “Not much bleeding, though.”

“I wasn't concerned with going slow.”

“Neither was he,” Sam said quietly.

“Did he climax?” asked Bruce.

“Not sure,” said Steve. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to take a swab anyway. There’s probably at least pre-ejaculate.”

Steve’s breath hitched and Bruce made a reassuring sound in his throat, working quickly. “Almost done, Steve,” he said calmly. “At least you don’t need stitches.”

“No.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Tony said you stopped fighting him.”

Steve gave a slight hiss of pain, then took a quick breath. “I didn’t want him to shove into me with me fighting him with everything I had and begging him to stop,” he said dully. Beside Natasha, Sam shuddered. “I couldn’t live with that.” He paused. “I didn’t want Bucky to live with it either.”

“You probably saved yourself a lot of damage. Still got hurt, though.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Physically, sure,” said Sam, not turning around. “I can get you a counsellor--”

“No.”

“All right, I’m done,” said Bruce, and Natasha heard him taking off his gloves. “You can get down.”

They waited to hear the sound of Steve’s zip before turning around. Bruce was putting swabs in a small glass container and Steve was straightening his clothing. His face was gray, lips pressed together, and a bruise was darkening on his cheek.

“I’d like to keep you under observation,” said Bruce.

Steve shook his head and turned as Maria, Tony and Clint entered the room.

“You OK?” asked Tony, and Natasha had rarely seen him this subdued.

“Who’s with Bucky?” asked Steve.

“The guard,” said Maria. “He’ll give us a call if anything happens. He’s in restraints anyway.”

“I’ll go upstairs and check on him in a moment,” said Bruce. “Steve checks out fine.”

Steve shrugged. “I told you I didn’t need to come here. I’m fine.”

Clint blinked. “You’re not - you’re not gonna make excuses for him--” he began.

“This changes things, obviously,” said Maria. “If he’s capable of attacking you like that, I certainly don’t feel safe having him in the city.”

“What are the alternatives?” asked Steve. “We can’t hand him over to HYDRA.”

“We don’t have many,” said Maria. “We do have some secure facilities in more remote areas,” she continued. “I have access to some fairly high-level SHIELD safehouses and containment facilities.”

“Better than what we have here, safety-wise?” asked Tony.

“You’re welcome to contribute,” Maria said, looking troubled. “I’m not sure what we’ve got is enough...”

“Where are they?”

Maria opened her mouth and Steve put out a hand. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “I shouldn’t know.”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Clint, feeling both relieved that Steve had finally come to his senses about Barnes and annoyingly disappointed that he was finally giving up. And... and sad. Sad that it had taken something this extreme to make him finally give up.

Maria nodded calmly, her eyes filled with compassion. “All right. I understand.” She paused. “You should still leave the country too, even if you won’t be involved in his care any more,” she added gently. “I don’t want you questioned until we have a more solid--”

“Who said I’m not going to be involved?” asked Steve. He looked around at them as Maria faltered. “I’m going with him.”

Silence.

“You have got to be kidding,” said Clint.

“Obviously, it’s going to be a while before he can be released, if ever,” Steve said bleakly. “And I can't be one of his jailers, and I don’t want to be picked up for questioning. Wherever he’s going, I’m going too. I’ll stay with him. I don’t want to know where we are either, so he can’t get information from me if he’s trying to make escape plans.”

“He’s dangerous. To you more than anyone else.”

“I can handle it.”

“Steve. He just sexually assaulted you,” said Clint evenly.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “No he didn’t. I consented.”

Clint’s face darkened. “Listen, I may be a high school dropout but I can tell what's consent and what's not,” he said tightly, “and that wasn't consent by any stretch of the imagination. Don't give me that shit.”

“Clint,” said Sam softly.

“Call it whatever you want,” said Steve, his voice hard. “I’m still going with him. And I want to be there when he wakes up.” He got up and left.

There was a brief silence.

“We’re really gonna let him do this?” said Clint. He looked around at them. “I know what consent is, and that wasn’t it.” Sam opened his mouth and Clint put up a hand to stop him. “OK, I get it, Steve needs to call it that for his own fucked-up reasons. I'm not gonna argue with him. And if he doesn’t blame Barnes or he thinks it’s just another thing he’s done because he was fucked over by HYDRA for seventy years, fine, I’ll play nice and I won’t blame the guy. But that _wasn't_ consent, and excuse me for wanting to puke--”

“Nobody’s asking you to call it anything,” Sam broke in. “But Steve has a right to make his own decisions.”

Clint glared at him. “And excuse me if I don’t wanna enable Steve in his quest to let Bucky Barnes do whatever the hell he wants to him, as payback for Steve having left him to HYDRA.”

“What’s your alternative?” asked Maria after a moment.

“Are we seriously gonna let him go back in there?” Clint looked at each of them in disbelief. “You think if he just lets Barnes do whatever he wants, that'll... what? Make him all better? All he needs is a warm body and he'll be healed?”

“I don't think so,” said Sam. “And I don't think that's what Steve's thinking either.”

“You're _letting him go back in there!!_ ” Clint slapped the table in frustration.

“He’s not going alone,” said Natasha, and left the room.

2.

When she reached the apartment, she found the guard standing nervously in the sitting room.

“You let him go in to see Barnes alone?” she asked, and the guard blanched and made a helpless gesture.

“He - he said Mr. Barnes is restrained,” he said, his voice miserable, and Natasha suppressed the urge to use her Widow’s Bites on him. It wasn’t the man’s fault; nobody had planned for any of this, and there was no protocol in place for what a guard should do under these circumstances.

Steve was standing next to the bed where Barnes lay restrained and was starting to stir. He didn’t turn to acknowledge Natasha as she approached, his attention fixed on Barnes, whose eyelids were fluttering as his limbs automatically tensed against the restraints.

Barnes opened his eyes and furrowed his brow for a moment, obviously disoriented. Then he focused on Steve, standing over him, and his breath hitched. Natasha examined him closely, trying to read him.

Fear. Pain.

Sorrow. Shame.

“Do you want me to undo the restraints?” asked Steve, his voice neutral.

“N-no,” said Barnes quickly, shaking his head. He flicked his gaze at Natasha, standing impassively at the door, then bit his lip and fixed his gaze on the ceiling.

He swallowed, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment.

“Why,” he finally whispered. “Why did you let me...”

“I didn’t think I could win if I kept trying to fight you off,” said Steve simply. “I didn’t want either of us to have to live with you actually overpowering me. Actually forcing me. This way neither of us knows if you would’ve gone through with it.”

Barnes stared at him.

“It was a judgment call,” said Steve. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Silence.

“Did I make the wrong call?”

Barnes looked away. “I didn’t give you any good choices.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Barnes nodded, blinking rapidly. He cleared his throat. “What’s gonna happen now? Am I going back to cryo?”

“I told you that would never happen.”

Barnes looked back at him in disbelief. “Still?”

“Still.”

“What about handing me over?”

Steve shook his head. “We’re probably being moved somewhere else.”

Barnes frowned. “We?”

“I’m coming with you. I don’t know where. It’ll be somewhere far away.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Barnes slowly. “You can’t. You can’t mean that. Not after--”

“I can’t stay here or they’ll question me,” Steve pointed out. “And you can’t stay here either. You’re not safe in the middle of a civilian centre.”

“I’m not _safe_ anywhere,” said Barnes bitterly.

“Not yet. But you’ve improved--”

“You call what just happened _improvement_?” Barnes caught his breath. “You should be terrified of me.”

“I’m fine. And you stopped--”

Barnes made a sound in his throat. “Don’t-” his voice broke, then he steadied himself and continued. “You - _you_ are not gonna stand there and make _me_ feel better about what I just did to you,” he said, his voice shaking.

“I’m sure as hell not gonna help you feel worse,” Steve snapped back. He paused, then came closer, taking Barnes’s hand. Barnes caught his breath. “I _am_ scared of you,” said Steve, his voice tightly controlled. “You're faster and stronger than I am. What happened was painful and frightening, and I don't want it to happen again.” He took a deep breath. “And it might, because you would never hurt me but you're not always in control.” He paused. “And I accept that. I want to be here. I'll accept the risk.”

Barnes shook his head. “I don't want you to--”

“Well, too bad. I don't like getting hurt in battle either, but I'm a soldier, it's part of the job.”

“I'm not a _job_.”

“No, but this is a battle. It's a battle for you. And I'm in it, same as you.”

“You gonna lay down your life for me?” Barnes said, his voice hollow.

“If I have to.”

Barnes shook his head, closing his eyes. “Don't. _Jesus_ , don't. That wouldn't help.”

“I’m with you. Til the end of the line.”

Barnes gave a short laugh that sounded almost like a sob. “Christ, first you almost let me kill you. Now you let me...” He took a deep breath and focused on Steve. “Fight me. If this ever happens again, fight me.”

Steve hesitated. “I don’t know if I’d stand a chance--”

“Fight me anyway,” Barnes broke in. “I don't want to live with hurting you again.”

“What if you win?”

“I don't _know_!” Barnes said, anguish in his voice. “Just don't - I can't...”

Steve gripped his hand tighter. “OK. OK, I promise,” he said quickly. “I'll fight you.”

Barnes’s throat worked. “I’m not worth this,” he whispered.

“You are.”

“Maybe once, I was. Not any more. I don't know who I am any more--”

“The man you were would never have hurt me. You're not him any more.” Steve took Barnes’s hand in both of his, and forced Barnes to look at him. “But I don't care. You're not him because you've been hurt and abused beyond what most people could possibly imagine.” He leaned closer to Barnes, gently moving a lock of dark hair off his forehead. “They tried to destroy you, to turn you into a machine that wouldn't care who he hurt. They failed in that.” Barnes held his gaze, his eyes filling with tears. “I told you I'm here til the end of the line. I don't care that you're not really the Bucky I knew any more - you're enough of him that--”

“What if I'm not?”

“I don't care!”

“I do!” Barnes blinked and the tears spilled over. “What I did as the Winter Soldier, I did because I had to, and because I’d been convinced it was for the best. And I fought against it. They wiped me, over and over, because I fought them.” He bit his lip, a sob forcing itself out. “What I did to you...” He took a deep, shaking breath. “ _I_ did that. Just _me_.”

“No,” said Steve flatly. “Not just you. The person that’s left over after torture and abuse and conditioning. You never would have done it before, and with help you’ll never do it again.” He wiped Barnes’s cheek. “They’re working things out downstairs.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Barnes said hoarsely.

Natasha cleared her throat. “As far as I can tell our only choices are to put you in cryo, execute you, or keep trying to help you,” she said. “There’s no point in wiping you and starting over. And we can’t turn you over to anybody else, because there’s always a risk that HYDRA will get their hands on you.”

“Cryo and execution, then,” said Barnes. “Those are your only options.” He glanced over Steve’s shoulder, meeting Natasha’s gaze. “Right?”

Natasha hesitated. How many times had she thought the same thing? “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’ll recommend. We’ll rejoin the discussion once Steve is done talking to you here.”

Steve shook his head, not turning to Natasha. “I can’t be objective. Not even now.”

“If they decide on cryo?” asked Barnes.

Steve sighed wearily. “I’ll argue against it, but if I’m outvoted then I’ll be the last face you’ll see. And I’ll make them research how to help you so we can wake you up eventually.”

“And if they decide a bullet to my head is what’s best?”

They’d have to do it themselves, Natasha realized grimly. They couldn’t trust anybody else. Due process be damned; handing Barnes over for a proper trial would just leave him vulnerable to HYDRA. They’d have to be judge, jury and executioner.

Executioner to a man who, from all appearances, would not even put up a fight.

Steve gently stroked back Barnes’s long, dark hair, and wiped another tear off his cheek. “I was told, when we first found out about you, that you didn’t sound like the kind of person you save, but the kind you stop.”

“You finally convinced?” Barnes whispered, his eyes running over Steve’s bloodied lip and bruised cheek.

Steve closed his eyes and rested his forehead on their clasped hands. “Whatever’s decided, I promise, I’ll be the last face you’ll see.” He gripped the hand in his. “Til the end of the line, Bucky. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s my first attempt at writing a warning note of this type. Bear with me, and please let me know if there’s anything I should do differently if I ever have to write another one. Which I doubt, given the enormous writer’s block I got just writing this.
> 
> Dub-con warning for this whole chapter, and it should probably be non-con. To Steve (the victim), it’s consent, and his “consent” is important to him, but not to any of the other characters.
> 
> Chapter Summary: Stalling the powers that be is not working, and they want Steve to come in and testify. Steve tells Bucky, with the rest of the team in the observation room discussing what they’re going to do.
> 
> Bucky and Steve start to become intimate. Steve tells Bucky very clearly that he does not want to continue, even though he’s aroused and tempted, but Bucky is paranoid, feeling angry and frustrated and scared of being re-taken by HYDRA. He has also been working on how to barricade himself if anybody comes to take him by force.
> 
> The Avengers realize that Bucky has locked himself in with Steve, and then Steve realizes it too. Realizing that he can’t fight Bucky off, the team can’t rescue him in time, and that he can’t live with what will happen if Bucky “truly’’ forces him, Steve submits.
> 
> Fairly quickly, Bucky regains control of himself and lets Steve go, allowing himself to be sedated. The team realizes that they will probably have to ship Bucky off somewhere far away from other people, and Steve decides to go with him.
> 
> After Bucky wakes up, Steve speaks to him. Bucky does not understand why Steve let him do what he did. He asks Steve to fight him if that ever happens again, and says that he would be better off in cryo or being executed. He points out that in contrast to the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier, he was in control this time.
> 
> Bucky’s fate is in limbo at the end of the chapter, but Steve has promised to be with Bucky until the end, no matter what is decided.


	7. What if this is as good as it ever gets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, Winterstar and stressedspidergirl, for awesome beta. And for Clint and Natasha-thoughts :)

**1.**

“It doesn’t look so bad,” said Nat, looking at the monitor. The quarters where Barnes and Steve were confined looked small, but cozy. A large cell had been turned into two bedrooms that were more like alcoves, a tiny living room, and a bathroom. Steve was busily sketching while Barnes read, a pile of sketchbooks on the floor next to Steve and a small easel in his alcove.

“They’re putting in a treadmill tomorrow,” said Clint, popping open a beer. “Keep them from going stir crazy. Director Coulson approved it.” He grinned at Natasha. “Anything for the Captain.”

“I guess so.” She glanced around the small utilitarian room next to the cell, wondering how many of the other agents came here. She’d only seen two so far in the entire base.

“And Bucky’s new therapist will be here the day after that,” said Clint, resting a hip against the counter next to the monitor and taking a sip of his beer. “He’s gonna be a busy guy. Bucky’s not his only patient. I think Coulson was happy for the excuse to hire somebody.”

“SHIELD’s always been messed up,” said Natasha.

“Yeah, no kidding. More so now.” He shrugged. “I think they’re all pretty happy to be doing this for Steve. Including the interior decorating on their cell.”

“Really?”

“You should see the other cell they’ve got in this place. Not nearly as homey,” said Clint. “Then again, the psychopath in it isn’t nearly as nice either.”

“As nice as Barnes, you mean? Who is it?”

“The guy who killed Victoria Hand, among a bunch of others.”

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s here?”

Clint nodded. “Real psycho. They keep him in a bare cell. He makes Bucky look pretty cuddly.”

Natasha frowned. “Do they know what ‘Bucky’ has done?”

Clint’s lips pressed together. “They all know, Nat. They were briefed.”

“Not just as the Winter Soldier.”

“Trust me, they know _everything_ he’s done,” Clint said evenly. “But if Captain America is willing to keep working with him, they’re willing to try too.”

“Captain America has no sense of self-preservation.”

“Most of us don’t,” Clint pointed out. “The folks living here don’t, or they would’ve turned themselves in a long time ago. Instead they’re in a hidey-hole in Bumfuck, Nowhere.” He took another sip. “So, how’s it going back home? Has the media gone apeshit with Captain America’s vanishing act?”

“That’s a pretty accurate description, actually,” said Natasha. She, Sam and Tony had given statements about Steve’s disappearance, making it sound like he’d gone off after a promising lead, but no one had bought it.

“How close are they to putting out a warrant for him?”

Natasha pursed her lips. “It’s hard to tell. Steve’s doing pretty well right now, image-wise. Everyone knows he’s willing to put himself on the line for what’s right. If he says he’s keeping quiet about Barnes because of HYDRA, people are willing to give him the benefit of the doubt so far. I don’t think anyone’s eager for a repeat of the last time he was declared a fugitive and it turned out he was just being his usual hero self.” She glanced at the monitor again. “So how have they spent the last two weeks?”

Clint shrugged. “At first it was pretty grim. You know Steve; he was all stoic and square-jawed and inspirational. Bucky didn’t want to be here. He was still pushing for cryo.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “You’re buying that?”

Clint sighed and sat down, straddling the chair in front of Natasha and giving her a level look. “Nat. He’s trying. I know you wanted cryo, too, but he’s trying. We need to give him the benefit of--”

“We were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt before. Look how that turned out.”

“Being suspicious of him now isn’t going to help. We decided to help him--”

“ _We_ didn’t decide this; we were outvoted,” Natasha clarified, still bitter. She glared at him. “All right, what changed? You fought tooth and nail to get him put in cryo until we figured out how to rewire him. I’m gone for two weeks and come back to find he’s your new best friend?”

Clint returned her glare. “You know damn well why I felt how I did,” he shot back. “OK, fine. You want me to couch-psycho-analyze myself, fine. I was sympathetic to Bucky because I can identify with being forced to do something for someone else, and with - with all the other shit that happened to him.” 

Natasha put a hand on Clint’s arm soothingly, somewhat sorry she’d needled him. Clint had had enough abuse in his childhood that it hadn’t surprised her to see him identify with someone with Bucky’s history. 

“And OK, fine, so I’m not the most well-adjusted guy,” Clint continued. “So it didn’t take much for me to go from identifying with Bucky to identifying with Steve when he was pretty much forced to let Bucky hurt him. Mighta made me a little tetchy when we were trying to figure out what to do.” He gave her a wry grin. “I own my psychopathologies, y’know?”

“What changed?”

“Bucky has,” he said simply.

“In what way?”

“It’s not just how he was while we were still in New York,” said Clint, and Natasha nodded, remembering how Barnes had insisted there was nothing to be done, that he was too damaged for them to keep wasting their time on him. She’d had a hard time not believing him herself. “It’s how he’s been since they’ve been here. He’s even more confined than before, but he’s...” he trailed off, then shrugged helplessly. “He’s just different, is all. Toward Steve - toward everyone. He’s lost the ginormous chip on his shoulder, for one thing.” He paused. “I mean, he... he still gets frustrated and pissed off, but he’s not taking it out on anybody else. And yeah, OK, so he’s sorta tried to figure out how to get out twice, but he told Steve about both attempts pretty quick.”

“Had anyone noticed what he was doing?”

“Yeah. JARVIS had noted it. They weren’t serious attempts.”

“So you have no proof that he wasn’t just doing both - the attempts and the telling Steve about it - to lull you into a false sense of security.”

Clint nodded tiredly, conceding the point.

She glanced at the monitor, where Steve had now switched on the unit’s video screen and the two of them were watching a show. MASH, of all things. “They’ve settled into domestic life, then?”

Clint followed her gaze. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Has he tried anything?”

“Who?”

“Barnes. With Steve.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “You mean, has he come on to Steve again? Are you kidding?”

“Why would I be?”

“Natasha. He was...” Clint stopped. “OK, um, you haven’t seen him. He’s pretty destroyed. I think he can deal with everything he’s done, but not hurting Steve.”

“Why not?”

“He was a good guy before HYDRA got a hold of him. I think he was still holding on to that. Thinking of himself as a good guy who’d done bad stuff because he was brainwashed, and because he was trying to get out. He can’t tell himself that any more. And it’s killing him.”

Natasha gave an indelicate snort and tilted her head at the screen, where Barnes and Steve were chuckling at the show. “Obviously not, in that he’s very much alive. He’s an assassin; if he wanted to kill himself he would’ve found a way.”

“Don’t joke about that,” said Clint. “I think he would have if it wasn’t the easy way out.”

“Easy way out?”

“He knows it would kill Steve.”

Natasha held her tongue, unwilling to argue with Clint about this just yet, and glanced around at the SHIELD quarters where Steve and Barnes had ended up.

Isolated, yes, and far more off the radar than Tony’s tower, but not exactly the middle of nowhere. They’d talked about putting them somewhere like Outer Mongolia, but had decided against it in the end. Bucky was an American, and would stay in America, for now at least.

If they did move him, they’d have to move him somewhere that nobody cared about. Some country with no international influence, where nobody would care about endangering civilians. Nowhere in Europe, certainly. They had a couple of bases in South America. Nobody cared what went on there.

She suddenly remembered a rather cynical equation she’d seen a long time ago, calculating how valuable individual lives were in terms of outrage in the world’s media when they were lost or endangered. One American life was worth two British, if she remembered correctly. Also three Canadians, four Germans and about a thousand Africans. Maybe they could send Bucky to a safehouse in Africa...

And how would Steve feel about them coldly deciding that endangering African lives didn’t matter as much as American ones? This was the man who’d decided his _own_ life didn’t matter all that much, several times, after all...

“Hey,” Clint said softly, interrupting her train of thought. “Nat. Come on. What’s with the hardass bitch routine?” Natasha stared at him impassively. “You know better than anyone what that guy’s gone through. You know how people like him are trained, you _know_ how hard it is to come out of it. Why are you giving him such a hard time?”

“I do know how hard it is to come out of it,” Natasha snapped back. “That’s exactly why I don’t trust him.”

“Come on. That’s not all of it.”

Natasha swallowed, her mind churning. “Steve is naive as hell.”

“No shit. And?”

“He’s naive and idealistic and he’s in love and he’s going to let Bucky Barnes destroy him.”

Clint looked away.

“If we’d put Barnes in cryo we still could have helped him eventually. I didn’t argue for execution. But this... Steve...”

_Steve is going to lose here. He’s going to lose his innocence, his innate idealism, which he’s somehow still held on to despite his childhood and the War and loss and despite everything. And for someone who can’t possibly return the depth of his feeling, because he’s broken like me, and I know just how much people like us can feel, and Steve could’ve recovered from losing the Bucky he knew - he was recovering from losing him - he could recover again if Barnes was safely stored away somewhere else, and instead he’s going to..._

No. She couldn’t articulate any of that. The words stuck in her throat, even in front of Clint.

She glanced at the monitor, where Steve and Barnes were still watching their silly war show. “How’s Steve doing?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Well, he sleeps with his door open, the idiot.”

“I thought you trusted Barnes.”

“I trust that he _wants_ to do better. I don’t trust that he won’t snap in the middle of the night. Neither should Steve.” He gave her a level look over his beer. “And maybe you could start using his name, Nat. Call him Bucky. He’s not the enemy. He’s a human being.”

“A dangerous human being.” Natasha stood up, looking away from the charming little scene on the screen, and realized she was clenching her fists. “So... everything’s all right, then. They’ve set up housekeeping in their little cell, Steve forgave Barnes before Barnes ever asked, and... everyone’s friends. Steve’s the devoted boyfriend and his faith will bring Barnes through. And we’re all fine with that.”

Clint blew out his breath. “Nat. Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit down.” He pushed the chair out for her.

She sat back down reluctantly and Clint fiddled with the label on his beer bottle for a moment, chewing on his lip. She waited impatiently for him to organize his thoughts.

“Nat.” He met her gaze seriously. “We’re not all fine with it. _I’m_ not, anyway. It’s not OK. It’s nowhere in the neighborhood of OK. It’s really, really, really fucked up.”

Natasha stared at him.

“You remember when Bucky deliberately triggered Bruce? And then Bruce didn’t go near him again?” 

Natasha nodded.

“Bruce didn’t blame him, and he still tried to help him, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew enough to protect himself. Steve doesn’t.”

“Steve’s not a child.”

“No, but we all know our esteemed Captain’s a little fucked when it comes to the whole self-preservation thing, and I know that coming from me that’s pretty rich.” He leaned forward. “Listen, the devoted boyfriend thing is all fine and good, but I’d be a lot happier if he hightailed it outta here. He’s not just putting his own rep in danger and putting himself damn close to being considered a fugitive. He’s not - after what happened, he should have gotten counselling, not gone to _live_ with the guy who--” he broke off and shook his head. “And - and I know why he wants to keep trying. I mean, I know he’s in love with the guy. But... call me a cynic who doesn’t get lifelong soulmates or whatever, but to me it just... doesn’t look healthy.”

Natasha nodded slowly.

“The thing is, he’s gonna do it anyway,” Clint said heavily. “He’s gonna stay in there. He doesn’t have a ‘back off and cut your losses’ setting.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He’s not even dealing with what happened. He’s pretty much convinced himself that what happened was just a glitch. He’s ignoring it.”

“That’s not healthy either.”

“No, it’s not.” Clint waved at the monitor. “Look, I’ve changed my mind about Bucky, Nat. I finally agreed with continuing to treat him, and coming here to see if I could help. And not holding what happened against him.” He sighed. “I just never thought it was a good idea for _Steve_ to still be involved.”

Natasha gazed at the two men on the monitor.

“‘Cause that’s not love, that’s codependence.”

**2.**

Natasha adjusted the bandage on her arm, somewhat annoyed at having hurt herself while on a stupid training exercise. Damn it, what was left of SHIELD needed her so badly, and instead of being out there, getting things done, here she was, spinning her wheels and randomly going through surveillance and recovering. No use at all.

Well, better than dealing with the press. Which was why she was recovering at SHIELD’s hidey-hole, instead of in New York or Washington.

“Why isn’t Captain America doing anything about this?” she’d been asked yesterday on the street by some eager beaver reporter, after he’d informed her of some explosion that was being blamed on HYDRA.

“Probably because he can’t step on American soil without the government tracking him down and wanting him to talk about Sergeant Barnes,” she’d snapped.

Sergeant Barnes, she’d been careful to say. Not the Winter Soldier.

Just as she was now careful to refer to him as Bucky, not Barnes, when she thought of him.

They were so damned shorthanded, she thought, looking around. This SHIELD bolt hole Phil had taken over was huge but almost always empty, its few agents frazzled and overworked. Not the best place to put Steve and Barnes - Bucky - but it’s not like they’d had a lot of choices. 

Well, at least she could help with that right now. She wasn’t totally useless. If she couldn’t help fight HYDRA right now, she could at least help Steve. Clint was right; the decision had been made, and she needed to try to help, not hold on to her suspicions past the point of usefulness. She’d been unwilling to make herself actually talk to Steve and Bucky last time she’d been here, but that had been almost three weeks ago. She’d go in and see Steve tomorrow. Maybe even talk to Bucky, as it was impossible to see one without the other.

She glanced over at the monitor. It bothered her somewhat to have no permanent guard on duty, as there had been while Bucky had been at Avengers Tower, but the agents were doing their best. A Tony-loaned version of JARVIS was running 24/7, and there was often also human surveillance over the monitor. The local agents, frazzled as they were, were regularly going in to the cell to keep Steve and Bucky company - especially the one whose grandfather had apparently been one of the Howling Commandos, though apparently he hadn’t shared that with either of the men in the unit yet.

She rubbed her eyes, wondering if anybody else was awake, and if anybody else was watching the screens right now other than JARVIS. She’d glanced at them desultorily herself a few times, but it was late and Steve and Bucky hadn’t done much other than watch TV, take turns on the treadmill, then go to bed. The displays were on infrared now, showing black-and-green images.

There had been nothing to see, for weeks. Bucky occasionally lashed out, but never at Steve. For the most part, they just existed together. Reading, drawing (in Steve’s case), watching TV, and exercising.

Now she glanced over the reports about Bucky. Bucky had been attending his therapy and cooperating. He’d had a few incidents lately, but been restrained before he could do much damage to himself, since he couldn’t damage the high-tech cage they had him in. JARVIS had dumped sedative on him - knocked out Steve at the same time, but that couldn’t be helped. A couple of the more techy agents were going to make something more localized... in their copious spare time.

She rubbed her eyes again, wondering about maybe going to bed. Decided to glance over one more report and raised her eyebrows at its description.

Apparently Bruce Banner had been here a little while ago. She hadn’t even known he knew about this place, but apparently he’d been to visit Steve and spoken to Bucky while he was here. She felt a prickle of guilt at her own distance from them since New York.

She opened the transcript file, scrolled past the pleasantries... catching Steve up with what was going on back home... Steve had left and gone to his alcove... Bruce and Bucky talked about random stuff...

_Banner: You know I do have some experience being responsible for some pretty crappy stuff._

_Barnes: You weren’t yourself when you did it._

_Banner: Neither were you._

_Barnes: Close enough._

_Banner: And I have some experience with wanting to deal with what I've done by just not being around to deal with it anymore._

Natasha blinked. Had Bruce really insinuated that...

She glanced at the time stamps on the transcript. There had apparently been a long silence after that.

_Barnes: He wouldn’t have to deal with me. He wouldn’t have to be here. He’d be free._

_Banner: And what do you think it would do to Steve if you freed him that way?_

Had Bucky actually gone that low, that Bruce had thought to come and give him a pep talk? Clint had mentioned something like that, but...

Or was he maybe manipulating them again? Getting everyone worried about him so they’d let down their guard?

She glanced at the screen, where Steve turned over in his bed, muttering something. She smiled tiredly. That’s right, Steve was a bit of a talker when he was asleep. It had happened a few times during long operations. Usually just indistinct mumbles, but she remembered one time after an op when he’d clearly said, “Penny each, that’s all,” startling the dozing medical tech next to him on the helicopter. And the time he’d been roundly teased by the STRIKE team for muttering, “Chocolate only, vanilla’s fucking disgusting.” They’d never figured out what it meant.

She glanced over the other screens. Bucky was in their small living room, getting himself a snack from the little fridge that Coulson’s people had been only too happy to stock for them.

"Bucky," Steve sighed, turning over in his sleep. "Please..." he mumbled. He sighed and moved restlessly, and Natasha noted that Barnes was making his way back to his own alcove.

Nightmare? Well, Steve’s heart was going a little fast and his temperature was elevated, but he didn't sound upset...

"Yeah..." Steve drew in a deep breath, his head tilting back slightly, and Natasha suddenly noted the heat signature image and chuckled. Ah, no, not a nightmare. Apparently Steve was having an... interesting dream.

“Bucky...” Steve murmured, and one hand groped blindly along the sheets. “Oh God please...”

"Steve?" the door to Steve's room cracked open slightly and Natasha sat up, alarmed. Bucky was at the door, peering into the room, and on the infrared screen she could see the worried frown on his face. He watched Steve for a moment, moving into the small room a step, and Natasha saw when the penny dropped and he realized what was going on. He bit his lip, stood still a moment longer, then started to back out.

"Bucky?"

Natasha flicked her glance at the bed. Steve was starting to sit up, blinking blearily.

“S-sorry,” Bucky stammered. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't. Did you need something?”

“You were talking in your sleep,” said Bucky.

“Was I?” Steve rubbed his face. “What did I... never mind.”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t listening, I was leaving,” said Bucky. “I wasn’t gonna--”

“It’s all right,” Steve said wearily. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’ll just...”

There was an awkward pause, and then Bucky turned to leave. Steve blew out his breath and drew up his knees, clasping his arms around them. “It’s never gonna be the same, is it?” he asked Bucky abruptly. His voice was still heavy with sleep.

Bucky stopped in the doorway. “What?”

Steve put his head down on his knees. “I should’ve fought you.” His voice was muffled. “I should’ve - you’re never gonna - I should’ve--”

Bucky frowned and came into the tiny room, stopping by Steve’s bedside. “Steve...”

Steve huffed out a bitter laugh. “Sorry. I’m just - you...” He rubbed his face and looked up at Bucky, suddenly looking and sounding much younger than Natasha was used to seeing him. “You... you don’t even look at me anymore.”

Bucky swallowed. “After what--”

“I forgave you, Buck. And there was nothing to forgive.”

“Steve--”

“And it’s never going to be like it was and I wish I’d - I wish I’d figured out what to do--”

Bucky put a hand on Steve’s arm, stopping his words. “It wasn’t you. I - there was nothing _you_ could’ve, it was me, I--” he withdrew his hand and Steve grabbed it.

“It’s like we’re never gonna get past it,” he said, frustrated. “This is the first time you’ve even touched me since--”

“I didn’t think you’d want--”

“Christ, I’d have to be dead not to want you, Buck,” Steve said roughly.

Bucky sat down heavily, still holding Steve’s hand. “I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, there’s nothing I can say to--”

“And we can’t get past it, can we?” Steve said bleakly. “Every other fucking thing life threw at us, we got past, but this...”

Bucky stiffened. “I can’t. I _hurt_ you. I can’t - the one thing I was all about, was protecting you. I don’t remember everything about my past, but I know that’s what I always did. It was one of the only things I was good for.”

Steve shook his head impatiently. “That’s not true. That’s your memories messing you up. You were good for a lot of other stuff. Christ, Bucky, I didn’t fall in love with you because you protected me. I fell in love with you because you were...” he gripped the hand in both of his. “You were everything good and strong and - you were like fucking sunshine--”

“Well I’m a fucking winter storm now, Steve,” said Bucky wryly.

Steve put a hand on his cheek, his eyes fierce. “You’re not. You’re still--”

“Stop.” Bucky’s face darkened. “Look, I don’t know what you were dreaming about, but--”

“What the hell do you think? _You_ , you dumbass.”

Bucky took a deep breath and held Steve’s gaze. “Steve. Whatever you were dreaming about just now - that’s not me anymore.” Steve opened his mouth to object and Bucky continued. “I know you used to tell me about your dreams back in the War, but I’m not--”

“You think I still dream about you back in the War? Jesus.” Steve stared at him. “I don’t. I dream about you now, Buck. Metal arm and all.”

Bucky blinked.

“I mean, if you really want, I can tell you what I dream about...” Steve said with a small smile, and Bucky gave a startled laugh.

“No, fuck, you always had a filthy mouth,” said Bucky. “I remember that part.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Do you?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “I remember... I remember they let us sleep in the same tent but we’d promised we wouldn’t do anything else, so all we did was kiss sometimes. And then sometimes you’d talk really quiet and we’d jerk off.” He frowned. “I think. Did... did that really happen?”

Steve nodded. “A few times, yeah.” He sighed. “Never thought I’d feel nostalgic about any of it.” He shifted restlessly. “I remember wishing so much that the War was over so we could get out of that nightmare and just be together - not scared someone would overhear us, not watching ourselves every minute.” He swallowed. “And then you were gone and I would’ve given anything to have those days back.”

Bucky swallowed.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “God, I am so damn tired of wanting you,” he said, his voice hollow.

“Stevie...”

Steve reached out again slowly, and caressed Bucky’s cheek. “I keep thinking,” he said slowly, “that here we are, I wish we weren’t shut in here - I wish _you_ weren’t shut in here... but what if some day I look back on these days and wish I could have them back? What if this is as good as it ever gets?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side.

“Buck... if this is as good as it gets, don’t shut me out,” said Steve. He came closer, slowly, and Bucky drew in his breath but didn’t back up as Steve brought their faces closer together, their lips inches apart.

“Steve...”

“I want you,” Steve breathed. “I never came to you before, ever. You always came to me. You were always so much braver.”

“More selfish, maybe,” said Bucky, his voice low.

“Braver,” Steve repeated.

Natasha pressed her lips together. ‘Braver?’ Attacking him had been brave?

Obviously that wasn’t what Steve was talking about. He was talking about their history before Bucky had been confined. He was ignoring everything else.

He shouldn’t.

Steve rested his forehead against Bucky’s, arms going around him, fingers running through Bucky’s hair. He pressed a hesitant kiss to Bucky’s lips, and even on the screen Natasha could see him trembling, see his vital signs speeding up, as Bucky’s did.

Bucky pulled back slightly. “Steve, after what I did--”

“You’re not asking. I am.”

Bucky hesitated. “What happened to we shouldn’t, and we’re being watched, and all the other reasons you gave me before?”

“I told you, we don’t know how long we’ve got,” said Steve.

Damn it, issues of Bucky’s lack of ability to provide meaningful consent were still there. Steve really didn’t seem to care.

Steve opened, then closed his mouth, his fingers absently toying with Bucky’s hair, looking down. “And I... I don’t want what happened to be the last memory I have of... of us,” he said, his voice low.

OK, now _that_ was playing dirty pool, thought Natasha, but knowing Steve it was just honest fact. It completely undid Bucky, though. Bucky made a noise in his throat and didn’t move back as Steve pressed another gentle kiss to his mouth. He hesitantly returned the kiss, closing his eyes and putting a hand on Steve’s cheek, breath letting out, and then sighed as Steve’s lips ghosted over his cheek and over his face and his closed eyelids.

Steve pulled back slightly, and cleared his throat. “JARVIS,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “Or whoever’s watching, please.” He paused. “Please don’t barge in.” He took Bucky’s mouth in another kiss and Bucky returned it, slowly growing more passionate. He tilted Bucky’s head back gently and kissed his way down his throat.

Natasha clenched her fist. JARVIS should be putting a stop to this. _She_ should be putting a stop to it. Then again, if JARVIS didn’t object, and he’d been programmed to make decisions about the men in the cell, and knew a great more about what had been going on in there in the last several weeks than she did...

“JARVIS--” she began.

“I am respecting the wishes of Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS immediately from the monitor beside her, and she started slightly. “Although I am keeping a close watch.”

Bucky moaned and Steve pulled back. "Is that... is that OK?"

"Uh - yeah," said Bucky, his voice unsteady, and blinked rapidly. "Yeah. Yeah, OK. Feels nice.”

Steve smiled slightly. "You always liked that."

"Did I?" Bucky asked faintly.

Steve returned to his throat and Bucky sucked in his breath, eyes closing involuntarily and head dropping back. "Oh - oh God..." he whispered. Steve moved his mouth along Bucky's neck and Bucky's hands came to his hair, neck arching back and mouth dropping open, chest rising and falling rapidly. Steve smiled, continuing down, his touch sure and confident.

Of course. Ten years. He would've known Bucky's body intimately, known what turned him on and what made him moan and mapped out every inch of him.

"That's OK?" Steve whispered, and Bucky was clearly overwhelmed. Natasha glanced at the vital signs screen - both fully erect, both heartbeats speeding - by all physical indications, Bucky was as much into this as Steve was.

All right, then. Natasha briefly wished JARVIS had a physical entity to glare at.

Fine. If JARVIS didn’t think this merited stopping, she was damn well going to make sure that at least Steve didn’t get hurt. And thank God she didn’t have the same kind of squeamishness most people had about watching others have sex. Her lack of squeamishness just might protect Steve - protect Bucky too, for that matter.

“Bucky,” Steve murmured as he gently pushed Bucky down onto the bed and they lay down next to each other. They kissed again, bodies pressing together, and Steve moaned. He caressed Bucky, hands moving over his t-shirt, then sliding under it. Bucky gasped, pulling the shirt up slightly, and then they were both sliding shirts off and coming back together, hands wandering over bare skin.

"God, I've missed this..." Bucky said. Steve smiled. "Wait - let me..." he gently nudged Steve onto his back and Natasha drew in her breath, but he only gave Steve a serious look as Steve gazed back at him, trust and vulnerability so naked in his eyes that Natasha suppressed the urge to press the damn button and stop this shit right now. Before it got even more out of hand, the hell with what Steve said or JARVIS thought.

Bucky pressed a kiss to his neck, then started down his neck and to his chest, pausing. He lowered his head and tongued Steve's nipple and Steve caught his breath.

"You always loved this," murmured Bucky. He gently took Steve's nipple between his teeth and then pressed a kiss to it, and Steve closed his eyes and dropped his head back on the bed, mouth open and pulse going haywire. "You were so tiny when we were kids, and the other kids made fun of you - I didn't wanna do anything to you that made you feel like a girl." He pressed a kiss to Steve's nipple again and smiled as Steve bit his lip and gave a soft groan. "You were... God." He stopped, swallowed. "I loved you so damn much," he said slowly, between kisses and nuzzles. "Kept thinking I was so fucking lucky, what you let me do to you, but God hated me because you were gonna die and leave me alone." He licked at Steve’s nipple again and Steve gave a soft keen, his eyes clenched shut.

"God, that sound always drove me so crazy," Bucky murmured, touching himself.

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve whispered. "Oh God." He pulled Bucky up into his arms and kissed him, caressing the back of Bucky’s neck with one hand and moving his other hand over Bucky’s chest and to his shoulder, where the metal met his body. He stopped, looking up at Bucky. “How much can you feel in your arm?”

Bucky shrugged. “Pressure, heat. Pain, if anything damages it. Nothing good.”

Steve nodded, and tears filled his eyes. Then he was moving them so that he was on top, moving over Bucky, cradling him as if he was something precious and fragile, and damn it, if Bucky was playing him she was going to kill him herself, because Steve was completely overwhelmed. He shook his head again and propped himself up on one elbow, wiping at his eyes quickly.

"I didn't think this would ever happen again," he whispered. "I dreamed about you all the time, but I never thought..."

Bucky surged up, capturing Steve's lips with his own, moving under Steve, arching into his touch. Steve choked back a groan and thrust against him.

“God, Bucky. Jesus Christ, Buck,” Steve whispered his name reverently as their bodies sped up and they held each other closely, mouths open and faces together, hands grasping, and Bucky’s legs came up to cradle Steve against him.

“Christ,” groaned Bucky. “Steve, come on, yeah--”

Natasha stolidly looked on as they rocked together urgently amid gasps and moans and occasional whispered curses from Steve. Steve had drawn the covers over them, but it was still fairly easy to tell what was going on as they strained together, Bucky’s eyes wide and vulnerable, his hands grasping Steve’s shoulders like an anchor - and then they cried out almost at the same time, locked together, shudders moving across Steve’s shoulders.

They panted against each other, their heartbeats gradually slowing, Bucky’s hands wandering over Steve’s back, Steve’s head buried against Bucky’s neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Steve whispered. “God, I love you so much--” he pulled back and put a finger against Bucky’s lips. “Don't - don't say anything back, please, I don't want you to - I just, I wanted to say it.”

Bucky pulled back and hesitated, then relaxed against Steve. “I don’t know if it’s the same as before. But as far as I can... I love you too.”

Natasha stood up, wincing as the sudden movement jolted her bandaged arm, and turned away from the monitor.

Seeing Steve tomorrow was probably a bad idea. No, not probably: _definitely_. Maybe Clint could deal with his psychopathologies and own them and come to deal with Steve and Bucky on their own terms and not just for what they represented to him, but as for herself...

Natasha was going to need a little more time to do the same. It wasn’t just her disagreement with Steve being here, she realized. It was too many memories. Memories of her own past, of being helpless, being coerced into letting others use her body, of mistrusting and manipulating and being mistrusted and manipulated herself...

No. There was no way she could go in there tomorrow and deal rationally with Steve, let alone Bucky.

She glanced back at the monitor, where it looked like they’d just finished cleaning themselves off. Steve was pulling a blanket over both of them and settling back in the narrow bed, Bucky nestled against his chest.

Natasha turned off the monitor and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like last time, one chapter is being broken into two parts, and I very much hope to have part 2 up in exactly one week. And then there's only one last chapter to go. ::sigh::
> 
> In case anyone's wondering, yes, somebody really did once figure out mathematically how much outrage loss of life causes in the media depending on its origin. As a South American who has lived in Africa - well, as a human being, actually - I was pretty horrified. Because it's kinda true :(
> 
> Also: yes, I watch Agents of SHIELD.


	8. Bucky, for the first time, we've got a chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lied, beta went super fast and the next part of the chapter is up a little early :)
> 
> Thanks so much, stressedspidergirl!!

**1.**

“You went to see him?” she asked Bruce a week later. She’d found Bruce and Tony in Bruce’s lab, Bruce working with some incomprehensible gibberish on five different screens and Tony idly tapping away at a Starkpad.

Bruce nodded. “I noticed you’ve gone twice,” he said. “Steve said he hasn’t seen you, though.” Natasha gave him a blank stare, which usually worked to let people know when to back off. “Are you still upset that we didn’t put Bucky in cryo?”

Natasha suppressed a sigh. Trust Bruce to not be put off. “Everybody’s a shrink these days,” she muttered, then waved her hand at Bruce, not particularly wanting a variation on the theme of Clint’s ‘You of all people should understand that good people sometimes do bad things’ from him. “Why did you go see him?”

“He has anger issues. I have some experience with that.” Beside Bruce, Tony snorted. Bruce ignored him. “I offered to help.”

“Help how?”

“Meditation, getting to recognize when he’s getting agitated... there’s a lot that he can do. I left him a fair bit of homework.” 

She nodded. So apparently he wasn’t going to talk about Bucky’s possible suicidal ideation. Fair enough. “How’s the legal side of things?” she asked Tony.

“Steve’s about to be declared a fugitive, unfortunately,” Tony said glumly. “State Department’s given him to the end of the month and I think Pepper’s legal geniuses have run out of delay tactics. I was thinking of going to see him. Tell him that he’s _got_ to come in.”

“Don’t,” she said. “The more of us go to see him, the more of us know where he is - or at least how to get there - the worse it’s going to look if anything goes wrong. Or if Steve ever has to testify about who knew where the Winter Soldier was being held.”

“I know, I know,” said Tony. “That’s why Sam and I are staying away. I’ve passed on messages, but I don’t appear to be as persuasive long-distance as I am in the flesh.”

Natasha, nodded, reflecting that the annoyance factor was certainly greatly reduced when you could just shut Tony off. “So he’s not interested in coming in?”

“He’s worried that won’t be able to go back. Either because he’ll be arrested or because he’ll be tailed.”

Natasha nodded. It wasn’t an unreasonable fear.

“And he hasn’t mentioned it but I’m sure he’s also worried about the whole, you know... sleeping with the enemy thing again. If he’s questioned I’m pretty sure it’ll come out, and it won’t look good, especially in context of where they are right now.”

“Everybody knows about that, do they?” said Natasha. “It’s a regular thing now?”

Tony gave her a wry grin and fiddled with his Starkpad. “Yeah, it’s a regular thing. It’s a _very_ regular thing, apparently. And Grandpa Rogers never ceases to amaze me with his mixture of grumpy old man and 21rst century liberated guy.” He pushed his Starkpad at her. A small image of Steve appeared, apparently recorded off the screen he used to speak to the SHIELD agents while in the cells.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d turn off surveillance when we’re having sex,” he said, completely nonchalant, and there was a choking sound from the agent on the other side of the communication. Natasha wondered if inhaled coffee had been involved in that sound.

Tony snickered, and Natasha glanced over at Bruce. Bruce’s indulgent smile told her this probably wasn’t the first time Tony had shown him this particular clip. “I want to turn that into my screen saver, but then I’d have to explain the context.”

Natasha shook her head, nowhere near as amused as Tony. “And nobody particularly cares that he’s had no counselling, that he just walked into isolation with his attacker and now they’re--”

“Natasha, I don’t think ‘nobody cares’ is even close to how anybody feels about this,” Bruce interrupted. “Steve decided he was going to go with Bucky. There isn’t much anyone can do when he makes up his mind.”

“What do you want the rest of us to do?” asked Tony, his grin gone. “You saw him the day that Barnes attacked him. He wouldn’t even admit he was hurt. He won’t ask for help, he won’t back off. My old man was an idiot when it came to people but he was right about one thing: Steve Rogers is one of the most stubborn human beings on the planet. If he’s decided to stand by his man, nothing the rest of the world can do will stop him. The only one who has a chance is Barnes.”

“You think the rest of us are just enabling him, don’t you?” asked Bruce quietly.

“As long as Steve’s there, Bucky can still manipulate him,” Natasha pointed out.

“To do what?” asked Bruce reasonably. “Steve has no idea where they are. He doesn’t have access to any exit codes, he doesn’t have any more power than Bucky does. They’re watched all the time--”

“He’s the Winter Soldier,” Natasha interrupted impatiently. “He can figure something out. He can get information from the agents there when they go out. He knows they’re all American, he can ask them about their day, ask them where they’ve been, listen to them _not_ complain about the local food--”

“Maybe,” said Bruce. “He’s also got an anklet that will pump him full of sedatives the moment anything goes wrong.”

“And JARVIS is keeping an eye on him,” Tony pointed out.

“JARVIS didn’t do that great a job before, did he?”

“You should talk to him,” said Bruce gently. “No matter how you feel about what he’s doing, you should see him.” He paused. “Steve misses you. He doesn’t have that many friends.”

Natasha blew out her breath.

“Natasha... at least talk to him about coming in so he’s not declared a fugitive,” said Tony.

**2.**

Natasha glanced at the monitor, where Steve and Bucky were sleeping peacefully, and checked the time, frowning. Right. 5Am. Normal people who hadn’t just crossed five time zones were usually asleep at this point in the day.

She started to stack her weapons on the table and looked around the empty room she’d ended up in at the SHIELD base. There had only been one person up and about when she came in - a sleepy-eyed agent who’d clucked over her lack of lanyard and given her a visitor pass and sent her on her way. Presumably they’d all start waking up soon.

A small sound came from the monitor. Steve sighed in his sleep and turned over, putting an arm over Bucky’s waist and tucking himself against him, sinking into deeper sleep once more. Bucky made a small sound in his throat and clasped the hand at his waist, not waking up.

They’d replaced Steve’s single bed with a double, Natasha noted idly. It took up nearly the entire sleep alcove.

They’d been doing well, it seemed. Bucky’s outbursts were less frequent, though he was still frustrated and moody. He’d never turned his violence against Steve again, though - not that there had been much of a chance for him to do so, what with being monitored 24/7 and prone to being sedated the moment he got upset.

Steve was doing well too, though often quiet. The agents at the base, though busy with their own concerns, came by the visit frequently. The surveillance video records she randomly clicked on seemed to show a quiet, shyly affectionate couple who mostly just drew or read, watched TV, exercised, and played cards together.

She almost hated to disturb that.

She should have come in to see them before now, she realized as she started to go through her stash of weapons for maintenance. Yes, she’d been busy. Yes, she’d vehemently disapproved of Steve’s decision to go into confinement with Bucky. But she should have come in and faced them before now.

For one thing, Steve wasn’t going to like what she had to say. If she’d stayed in touch, it would have come from a friend, from someone who was involved in what was going on in his daily life. Now it would come from someone who’d shown her biases already, and Steve was nothing if not insanely stubborn...

“Oh. Hi.” A young agent stopped short at the door. She glanced over Natasha’s visitor tag and her eyes widened slightly, then she pasted a nonchalant look on her face and continued in.

“That’s quite the impressive set of tools,” she said casually as Natasha tested the tension on her garroting wire.

“I’m just in from the field.”

The young agent grinned wryly. “Funny, when I’m in from the field all I’ve got is a laptop. Same as when I’m here.” She glanced at the monitor. “You here to see Captain Rogers?”

Natasha nodded. “Forgot about time zones.”

“He’s usually up close to now,” said the agent. “He runs for a few hours.”

“Does he.”

“Yeah.” She looked at the screen. “Not a lot to see in there right now.”

“So you watch them enough to be aware of his routine? Even though JARVIS is on?”

“It doesn’t hurt to keep an extra eye on things. When we can.”

“When you’re not busy out of the base?”

The agent gave her a grin. “That and when surveillance goes dark and it’s just JARVIS seeing what’s going on.”

“That happens a lot?”

The agent shrugged. “They are two very hot young guys confined to a tiny set of rooms. They’re bored. You can really only play cards so many hours of the day.”

“And it doesn’t make you nervous?”

The agent shrugged again. “More like curious as hell,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “Have you noticed they’re both kinda smokin’ hot?” She gave a dramatic sigh. “But JARVIS is keeping an eye on them. Which I guess is a good thing. Not sure I could look them in the face if I was also watching them be hot together.”

“How much surveillance do you do?”

“Not a lot. We mostly just talk to them whenever we can. They don’t talk a lot themselves,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “And here I’d always thought guys in this century were emotionally constipated.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Whatever I can say without giving away anything about our location or what we’re doing.” She glanced at the screen as Steve made a vague sound in his sleep. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered and he turned over, slinging an arm over Steve and making a soft sound of comfort. “We all do. Trip finally let them know he was the grandson of their buddy. That went well. He’s been able to fill in a lot of blanks. I’m mostly a techie, so there’s not a lot we’ve got in common; I come to work here sometimes and say good morning to Steve, talk about workout routines, just let him hear another human voice. May could probably bond over ninja stuff with Bucky, but that’s not a great idea.” Her laptop suddenly vibrated and she glanced down at it. “And speaking of laptop stuff, I’ve probably just tracked down that satellite I was looking for.” She looked at the monitor screen. “He’ll be waking up soon. You’ll probably want to say hi to him alone. I’ll go work somewhere else.”

She walked off - and sure enough, a minute later on the screen, Steve woke up, blinking for a moment before checking the time and sighing. He gave Bucky a slight squeeze and then rolled away from him, sitting up and stretching.

“Timeizzit?” Bucky mumbled beside him, eyes still closed.

“5:30. I’m gonna run.”

“Mm.” Bucky nodded, snuggling deeper into the bed.

Steve got up, giving the top of Bucky’s head a quick caress and moving to the washroom, emerging a few minutes later changed out of grey t-shirt and sleep pants and into SHIELD-issue exercise clothing. He carefully closed the door to the alcove and turned on the treadmill, starting to stretch.

Natasha turned on the speaker. “Steve?”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Natasha?”

“Can I come in?”

Steve blinked, then moved back from the wall that acted as cell door. “Sure. Yeah, sure, come on in.”

Natasha deactivated the wall and moved into the small sitting room, reactivating the wall behind her.

“Long time,” Steve observed.

“I know.” Natasha found herself uncharacteristically defensive. “I’ve been busy, with SHIELD business and--”

“I know,” said Steve. “I’ve heard.”

Natasha sat down and glanced at the alcove. “Is he asleep?”

Steve nodded. “He usually runs after I do.” He gestured at the small fridge. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, I just had dinner.” Steve blinked and Natasha smiled. “It’s 9PM by my internal clock.”

“Ah.” Steve sat back. “So, what brings you here?”

Natasha nodded. No, he couldn’t assume she was just here to visit. “You’re going to be declared a fugitive the day after tomorrow.”

Steve nodded. “I know. I’m surprised it’s taken this long. Tony’s legal team is better than I thought.”

“How long are you planning on staying here?”

“As long as it takes.”

“There’s going to be a warrant for your arrest--”

He chuckled dismissively. “Not like that’s never happened to me before.”

“This is over one man.”

“I’ve been in trouble because of Bucky before,” said Steve. “Several times.”

“Steve?” Bucky suddenly appeared at the alcove door, eyes blurred and hair tangled. He blinked at Natasha. “Oh. I thought I heard you.”

Steve gave Bucky a tired smile. “It’s OK, Buck, you don’t need to be up yet. Go back to bed.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes and peered at Natasha, then narrowed them. “You sure?”

Natasha thought quickly. “Maybe Steve’s right,” she said, frowning slightly. “You probably don’t need to hear this.”

Steve’s lips pressed together. “There’s nothing you have to say to me that Bucky can’t hear, too,” he said, and Natasha almost rolled her eyes at how easy he was to manipulate. “Come on in.” He moved aside slightly and Bucky sank down next to him, meeting Natasha’s gaze. She suddenly had the distinct feeling that he knew exactly what she’d just done.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Steve’s going to be declared a fugitive,” said Natasha.

Bucky swallowed. “For staying in hiding instead of testifying about me.”

Natasha nodded. “His public image is also starting to suffer. And the longer he stays here, the worse it gets. Not being able to give any kind of indication of when he might come back is also--”

“That’s enough,” said Steve, his eyes hardening.

Bucky picked at a thread on his t-shirt. “Steve. You--”

Steve reached for his hand and held it gently. “I’m staying here. There’s no discussion.”

“But--”

“If I give myself up, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to come back. Even if I did, there’s no guarantee I wouldn’t be followed. I won’t risk you and I won’t risk the people who are helping you.”

Bucky looked down at their clasped hands. “What if you didn’t try to come back?”

“Not an option,” said Steve firmly.

“Steve--” Natasha began.

“No.” Steve stood up and glared at them both. “I’m not going to discuss this with you. And _you_ should know better than to try this again,” he said to Natasha. “We talked it all out before Bucky and I were brought here. You lost. Nothing has changed.” He picked up a towel and headed for the shower. “Natasha, you’re a good friend, but you’re crossing a few lines here. I’m gonna leave before I say something I regret.”

He left the room and there was a brief silence.

Bucky sighed and put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”

Natasha tilted her head to the side.

“I _am_ being selfish.” Bucky looked down, his voice soft. “He can’t stay here. He thinks everything’s gonna work out, but...”

“You’re not going to get him to leave. You heard him.”

Bucky gave her a level look. “I’m the only one who can. I was always able to talk him into whatever I wanted, eventually. It’s even easier now.”

“Will you?”

“I told myself I’d never manipulate him again.” He swallowed. “You knew what I was doing, didn’t you?”

“When you first started approaching him? I had my suspicions.”

Bucky nodded. “I knew how he felt about me,” he said quietly. “That he felt responsible for what happened. I knew that I could use that, get him on my side. Maybe get him to break me out...” he drew in his breath unsteadily. “And I needed to get out so bad, and he was so easy.”

Natasha nodded.

“I just didn’t expect he’d get to me, too.” He swallowed again. “Didn’t think anybody could get to me. Not without chemicals and shock batons and wipes.” He frowned. “You know, he said once that we've never _not_ hurt each other, and he’s right. I don't want that any more.” He stood up, restless. “Before, in our time, there wasn't much of a choice. There wasn’t anyone else for him - girls didn’t like him and another guy wouldn’t have been any better. But now... he could have someone. He could have a life. Just not with me.” He glanced around. “Not here.”

“Word is you’re getting better,” said Natasha, keeping her voice neutral. “Working with therapists, controlling yourself more.”

“How long is it gonna take before I can get outta here?” asked Bucky, his voice bitter. “Am I _ever_ gonna get outta here? How long before anybody feels safe having me walking around free?”

Steve came out of the shower, hair damp but dressed and looking somewhat calmer.

“Steve,” Bucky began.

Steve went to the small fridge and took out a protein shake. “No.”

“We’ve talked about this, Steve,” said Bucky.

“ _You’ve_ talked about it.” He popped open the shake and downed it.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well, we’re talking about it again.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to go. With Natasha.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“No, it’s not. I told you I don’t care about--”

“It’s not just the fugitive thing.” Bucky glanced at Natasha. “You’re - you shouldn’t be here. I know, you’re doing your best to help, but this place isn’t good for you. I’m being selfish, keeping you here.”

“I volunteered.”

“That’s because you--”

“I volunteered,” Steve repeated firmly, tossing the shake container in the garbage and stepping closer. “Bucky. After you died, Peggy told me to respect your choice. Respect mine. I want to be here.”

“It’s not the same.” Bucky looked at him pleadingly. “I don’t wanna hurt you. And I am. Have been since I first came back in contact with you. I’m trying to stop doing that.”

Steve shook his head. "Don't give me that shit. You and me have always hurt each other. It's just the way we are.”

Bucky swallowed. "I don’t want you around me, feeling like shit because you can’t help me."

"So your choice is to make me feel like shit by sending me away?” Steve said, his voice getting an edge. “You can tell yourself it's for my own good all you want, but don't try to convince me."

"It _is_ for your own good."

"Bullshit." Steve took his hand and leaned closer. "Bucky, for the first time, we've got a chance,” he said intently. “Fuck, don't throw that away."

Bucky frowned. "What chance?"

"You and me can be together--”

“What, with you living here?” Bucky gestured to the walls confining them. “In prison even though you haven’t done anything wrong?”

"You’ll get better. And if you don't, if you're here for the rest of your life, we’ll figure something out--”

"And what if I snap and kill you in your sleep?"

"Then I'll die happy," Steve snapped. “Bucky, I don't care. You were willing to risk _everything_ for us after the War. Knowing how we were looked at, you were still willing to risk being together, and my biggest regret was that I put you off and then you were gone.”

Bucky drew back. "You would've said yes?"

"I would've."

Bucky’s eyes hardened. "Well I'm not the man you would've said yes to."

"Ask me how much I care. I don't."

“You should.” He glanced at Natasha and steeled himself. “Steve. I’ve been playing you, ever since I remembered we were together.” Steve blinked and Bucky rushed on. “I knew, I knew that if I could get you to feel we were connected, you’d be putty in my hands. I knew you’d feel responsible for me, even more than before. I knew I could use that. I - I got you to use my name before I even felt like it was mine, because I knew what it would mean to you.”

Steve pressed his lips together, not looking at Natasha. “I was warned about that. I knew it could happen.”

“I’m still doing it, Steve,” said Bucky, his voice low. “Even here, even after everything - I can’t help it, I try to just be with you but I’m still thinking of the angle, thinking of how to keep you off balance so you’ll be more vulnerable. Still keep track of stuff you say that I can use against you - even when we're in bed I'm still--” his voice broke. “Steve, Jesus, even after everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done for me.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I need to get the fuck outta here and I’m still thinking of how to do it - I still get pissed off and see you as the enemy--”

“Buck,” Steve broke in. “I knew that could happen. That’s why I’m in here too. So that you _can’t_ use me to get out. And so you can have at least one person who _can’t_ be your enemy.”

Bucky gaped at him for a moment, then put a hand over his eyes. “You know. You know, and you still let me.” He gave a weak chuckle. “Damn it, can’t you see you deserve better than that?”

“I don't care what I deserve. I want you. _This_ ,” Steve swept his hand around, indicating the cell, “doesn’t matter to me--”

“It should,” said Bucky, his voice getting louder. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t deserve this!”

“Neither do you!”

“I _can’t_ have anything else. You can.” Bucky bit his lip. “Look. What happened to me wasn’t your fault. I know you read everything that happened, I know you know everything I told the therapists - and I know you feel guilty, but it’s not your fault and you don’t have to make up for it.”

“If I hadn’t--”

“You’re not the one who sawed my arm off or zapped my brain or turned me into a weapon. _You_ didn’t do a damn thing.”

“That’s the point.”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

“Bucky, when you fell, I stayed on that train,” Steve said quietly. “When I fell, you jumped after me.”

Bucky frowned at him. “You... you couldn’t have known I’d survive,” he said slowly.

“I should’ve jumped anyway.”

“And that’s what this is to you,” Bucky said quietly. “It’s just jumping off that damn train.”

Steve recoiled. “No! That’s not what--”

"Steve, you're the one good thing in my life. And I'm wrecking you." Bucky shook his head. “Forget trying to convince you to leave. I’m kicking you out.”

Steve stared at him. “This is payback, isn’t it,” he said slowly. “It was always me sending you away, and now you’re doing it back.” He stepped closer to Bucky again. “Please. I’m begging you, don’t do this.”

Bucky drew away. “It was always you sending me away because you thought I had a chance at a normal life,” he pointed out.

“And I was _wrong_ ,” Steve said urgently. “You kept telling me that. I was wrong about you because sending you away didn’t make you happy and it didn’t free you. You kept coming back. Why’s it different for me?”

“It just is!”

“This is lousy payback, Buck,” said Steve, his eyes bleak. Bucky looked away. “I know that... I know that you’re not the man I mourned for. But you’re enough of him, and I want to be here.”

“Well I don’t want you here,” said Bucky, and his voice shook.

Steve turned to Natasha. “Please, leave us alone.” Natasha hesitated, then turned to go. “And please... JARVIS is watching. Give us some privacy.”

Natasha deactivated the security wall, stepping through it and reactivating it behind her.

“JARVIS?” she said, raising her voice slightly.

“Agent Romanov,” said JARVIS instantly.

“Notify whoever is in charge of letting Steve out.” She paused for a moment. “And keep an eye on the conversation in there.”

“Of course, Agent Romanov,” said JARVIS. “I have notified the agent in charge.”

**3.**

It was about an hour later when Steve appeared, carrying a half-zipped backpack.

Natasha stood up. He looked calm enough, though she figured the pallor of his face wasn’t just due to being confined for the last several weeks.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he said, his voice steady. “Agent May cleared me through security. And they’re gonna move Bucky somewhere else after I leave.” He glanced around briefly. “Not that I even know where the hell this place is, but they’re going to make it so I not only can’t tell anyone where he’s been, I can’t tell anyone where he’s going either.” He gave her a small humorless smile. “And apparently you can’t be told either, so that I can’t say that if they want to find him they should ask you.”

Natasha nodded. That made sense. “When are you leaving?”

“About half an hour.”

Natasha looked at him carefully. “Are you all right?”

Steve gave her a bitter smile. “Just peachy. Shouldn’t I be?”

Natasha tilted her head to the side.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna fall apart, Natasha,” he said heavily.

“This can’t be easy.”

“Are you kidding me?” he blew out his breath. “Nat... I’ve lost him over and over again. I’m used to it.”

“You’re taking it remarkably well.”

He shrugged. “I thought he was dead and gone for two years. _That_ nearly killed me.” He opened his backpack and moved around a few of the items inside it, organizing a bit. “This time he’s alive. He’s gonna get better. If this helps, fine. If he comes back to me, that’s great. If he doesn’t--” his voice faltered and he steadied himself, then re-zipped the backpack. “If he doesn’t, at least I got this time with him. At least I got to say goodbye this time.”

Natasha swallowed, her throat unexpectedly tight.

Steve looked up at her and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m serious; if it helps Bucky to have me gone, I’m all for it. If he can’t be near me without feeling guilty, then obviously I’ve gotta go.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Go back to New York. Back to work, I guess. Either with Tony or helping SHIELD rebuild itself.”

“And just keep pretending you’re fine.”

Steve sighed. “Fine, if it’ll keep you off my back, I might even take Sam up on the counseling offer.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” Natasha nodded slowly and mentally commended him for his ability to sound so rational when not half an hour ago he’d been pleading with Bucky to give them another chance.

“I’ll be fine, Natasha,” he repeated, and almost sounded convincing.

Natasha nodded again, and reflected that you didn’t have to be mortally wounded to bleed.

“Captain Rogers?” The agent Natasha had been talking to before entered the room, looking subdued. “We’re leaving in a couple of minutes. Do you have everything you want to take?”

Steve nodded.

“You uh...” she trailed off awkwardly. “You left behind some drawings, we weren’t sure if--”

Steve shook his head quickly. “They’re his. If he doesn’t want them, just throw them out.”

“Come this way, then,” said the young agent, and Steve and Natasha followed her out the door.


	9. He doesn’t need to atone for anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much, stressedspidergirl and JustLikeLuna! Thanks especially for the character-thoughts :)
> 
> Note: See end notes for possible squick.
> 
> Also: OK, here goes. ::deep breath::
> 
> It’s been interesting, working on the bridge-to-the-end of this story (I pretty much always write the last scene about a week into a story, it's awful) while reading many of the reactions to Natasha’s actions and point of view.
> 
> I must say, before posting I had been afraid that the reaction to Steve going into isolation with someone who assaulted him, and pretty much everyone but Natasha going along with it, would be fairly negative. I had been nervous about being accused of downplaying the seriousness of sexual assault, and saying that it was the victim’s responsibility to forgive their attacker (as long as the attacker was sorry) and remain vulnerable to more mental and sexual abuse for their attacker's sake. Which was not my intention at all.
> 
> I was somewhat surprised to see that I got the exact opposite: people mostly angry that Natasha was so unsympathetic to Steve and Bucky's love.
> 
> It’s been an interesting experience, to be sure. I’m not new to writing stuff that makes people angry, but this is a new one for me. Haven’t written sexual assault before; don’t think I’ll do it again. It seems far too easy to unwittingly feed into attitudes I passionately oppose in my RL.
> 
> As I said to many individual people who reviewed, I've been where Natasha is: I've been the friend of someone who was assaulted and went back to her attacker, thinking lifelong love would conquer all. My friend was raped again. I'm not comfortable with my writing seeming to paint someone as hateful and unsympathetic when (to me) they're (admittedly clumsily) trying to protect a friend who has been hurt.
> 
> Thanks for your feedback, guys. I do appreciate the thought-provoking nature of this.

1.

Natasha knocked on Steve’s door, her mind running over the plans for today’s hearing. She undid her jacket as she waited, slightly chilled by the first hard frost of the winter.

She checked the time - a little early, but Steve was usually up by this hour. He was slow to answer, though...

The door opened and Steve stood there, wearing a two-day scruff of beard, barefoot in a faded green t-shirt and jeans. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Natasha. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to go over your hearing evidence before you go in,” she said, holding up the file folder she’d brought. He frowned, looking nonplussed, and she waited a moment. “Can I come in?”

There was an almost imperceptible pause before Steve stepped back. “Uh. Sure, yeah, come in,” he said, and let her in. She glanced at him as she went by, puzzled. She’d been to see him a lot in the month since he’d moved back to New York, trying to make the transition easier for him, and he was always polite and welcoming no matter what time it was.

“We’ve gone over what I can and can’t talk about,” he pointed out as she made her way to his living room.

“I know. I figured you might want some extra practice.”

Steve hesitated, then shrugged and headed for his kitchen. “Fair enough. Do you want some coffee?”

“No thanks. But water would be good.” Natasha settled herself on the couch and drew her feet under her, taking out some pictures of odd markings.

“Feet off the couch,” said Steve automatically, bringing her a glass, and she smirked and uncurled herself. “What are those?” He nodded at the pictures.

“I’ve also been asked for input on some weird symbols that have been showing up on different HYDRA-related artifacts and... other places,” said Natasha. “I thought we could maybe look them over, too.”

Steve sat down. “You know my hearing’s not till ten,” he pointed out.

“I know. I’ve brought other...” she trailed off and took in his slightly stiff body language. “Is this a bad time?”

Steve started to shake his head, then stopped. “It’s... not the best,” he admitted. “Don’t worry about it. You have notes for the hearing?”

Natasha frowned and handed him the questions they’d been working on. It had taken weeks for Tony’s people to lose the fight to have Steve come in and testify live and not just from pre-prepared questions. Now that he had to go in live, they’d tried to anticipate everything he could possibly be asked. “You’re usually an early riser and you’re always back from your run by now. Break from routine?”

“You could say that,” said Steve in an offhand voice, scanning the notes. “Haven’t seen this one before. The only answer I can think of pretty much incriminates Phil Coulson in hiding Bucky.”

“Steve?” a male voice called out from Steve’s bedroom.

Steve didn’t react for a moment, then gave Natasha a resigned look and turned to call over his shoulder, “In the living room.”

A dark-haired man, sprinkles of grey in his hair, emerged from the bedroom, tucking his shirt into his jeans distractedly. “Did I leave my jacket out there?”

Steve glanced around his living room. “Uh. Yeah.” He stood and picked up a leather jacket, handing it to the stranger, who’d stopped short at the sight of Natasha.

“Oh.” He glanced at Steve. “You didn’t say you’d--”

“[Brian](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3457058), this is my friend,” Steve waved at Natasha, and Natasha stepped forward before he could name her.

“Connie,” she said, putting out her hand to shake Brian’s. Brian gave her a bit of a puzzled glance and shook her hand.

“Uh, did you want a coffee?” Steve asked. “Or - no, you said you had to--”

“Yeah, high-tail out before traffic gets bad.” He glanced at Natasha curiously again. “So... uh, nice to meet you, I guess.” He gave her a smile and Steve walked him to the front door.

Natasha glanced about the room again, taking in the details, completely off-balance. There weren’t two wine glasses or dishes in the sink; no other visible detritus of a date. It was neat and clean as usual at Steve’s place. She looked toward the front door where Steve was talking quietly to the man, who was nodding and smiling. Then Steve fell silent and both of them looked a little shy and awkward before Steve gave a small laugh and reached out for him, taking him in his arms for a long moment before pulling away and exchanging a gentle kiss with him. Natasha averted her eyes.

What the...

How long had Steve been keeping this a secret? She’d been with him a lot lately, not just at work but socially, as the year wound down and the holiday season began, aware that he must be suffering no matter how well-adjusted he seemed. He’d never given a hint that he was even looking for anyone new - let alone had found someone.

And he was the poster boy for “beyond-hellish breakup.” Three weeks post-breakup was hardly the best time to jump into a new relationship.

Steve came back to the couch and sat back down, picking up the hearing notes, looking completely composed.

Damn it, for all she knew, she might be completely off on this. It might be moving too fast, but for all she knew this... Brian person could be the best thing that could happen to Steve.

“How long have you known Brian?” asked Natasha.

“Since about ten last night,” said Steve, his voice cool.

Natasha blinked.

“And... he knows your first name?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve used my middle name before, but with me being in the news all the time lately I figured anyone who’s going to recognize my face will recognize me unless I use an alias.” He scribbled a reminder on the hearing notes. “Which I don’t much want to do.”

Natasha gathered herself. “Have you... done this before?”

“A few times.”

“You said you’d only ever been with Bucky.”

“Not any more.” Steve’s voice was flat.

Natasha abruptly felt ill.

“I’m going on with my life,” he said evenly. “Isn’t that what everyone wants me to do?”

“I’m not sure this is how we meant.”

“Hey, Bucky used to go through dozens of girls when we weren’t together.”

Natasha winced at the bitterness peeking through the nonchalant tone. “And you’re... trying to copy him?”

“At least I don’t have to go with girls, right? Brave new world. Though I did figure I should at least try once.” He glanced up and caught her blanch. “Don’t worry, I made sure to go with the one girl in that bar who _wasn’t_ drunk.”

Natasha shook her head in dismay. God, no. No - never mind that this didn’t fit with the wholesome Captain America image; it didn’t fit with _Steve_.

“Natasha.” He put down his pen. “I’m a grown man. What I do with my private life is nobody’s business. I haven’t been recognized before now, as far as I know, but if I am, so be it. I don’t care.”

Steve was bleeding, bleeding while trying to look like everything was just fine.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Natasha.

“Why? Did I need your permission?”

Natasha blinked at the simmering anger in his tone. “No. Of course not.”

Steve picked up his pen again and turned back to the notes. Natasha watched him for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“Steve.” He pressed his lips together and looked up at her, resentment emanating from him like a dark cloud.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re a grown man, you don’t need my permission to do anything.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed but he nodded cautiously.

“I... I shouldn’t have barged in this morning. I’ll let myself out.” She reached out for the file with the odd symbols.

Steve blew out his breath and caught her hand. “Nat.” He waited until she looked at him before continuing. “You don’t have to go. And I appreciate the concern. I just don’t need it.”

Natasha hesitated. “I’ve never - I never meant to...” She swallowed. “I was never trained in friendship,” she said awkwardly.

Steve’s eyebrows drew together.

“I’ve been worried about you since... since you were found, actually,” she continued, feeling more off-balance than she could remember feeling in years. “But especially since Bucky reappeared.” Steve stiffened slightly. “I know that this wasn’t what you wanted. I know my... my interference wasn’t--”

“I know you were trying to do the right thing,” Steve interrupted her. “But you can’t blame me for not being thrilled at the outcome.”

Natasha looked away.

Steve leaned back on the couch. “Look,” he said tiredly. “For what it’s worth, this...” he made a vague gesture toward his bedroom. “I’m not just - I don’t much wanna discuss my sex life with you, but if you’re that curious, go talk to Sam.”

Natasha nodded, keeping her face impassive. Of course. Sam. Sam was able to do what she couldn’t, what the Red Room had never taught her. She’d tried to be a friend, but she wasn’t what Steve needed.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Nat,” said Steve gently, and she looked up at him, startled that he was reading her thoughts. “You’ve been a good friend even when I disagreed with you. Sam just happened to be who I went to talk to after the first time. And it’s not... something I’m proud of, so it’s not something I wanna talk about any more than absolutely necessary.”

 

****

2.

“How is Steve?” she asked Sam bluntly the next day over lunch as soon as they were served.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you spend just about every day with him? How do you think he’s doing?”

Natasha gave him a level glare. “Don’t.” She put down her fork. “I saw him yesterday. Asked him how things were going, and he told me to ask you.”

Sam took a sip of his wine. “What was the context?” he asked cautiously.

“It had to do with the guy with no last name coming out of his bedroom.”

Sam briefly closed his eyes and then put down his wine glass. “Right. Yeah, that.” He sighed. “Short version: he’s lousy, Nat.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since about a week after he got back,” said Sam. “He showed up at my door [the morning after the first time.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3308063)”

“He seemed to be doing fine.” She took a bite of her pasta. “Why does he do it?”

“Beyond the obvious?” Sam asked dryly. “People in pain do a lotta different things to deal with it. Some of them don’t seem to make sense. Besides, Steve can’t really drink away or drug away what he’s feeling, so, you know, not many other ways to forget...”

“Why did he come to see you?”

Sam’s mouth quirked slightly. “Probably ‘cause I’ve held a lotta hands and used up a ton of tissues trying to hold together soldiers who finally fall apart.” He took another sip of his wine. “He was fine, at first, seemed a little down, but I just thought it looked like normal post-breakup blues - kicked up a notch ‘cause of the ex’s mental health issues. Nothing I haven’t seen before, right?” He sighed. “Then he told me he’d picked up some guy the night before and... Jesus.” He looked at Natasha, his dark eyes shadowed. “Never thought I’d end up with Captain America sobbing in my arms for a couple hours.” He put down his glass. “Nat, the guy’s in a lot of pain. The one good thing that came out of it was I got him to agree to see a counsellor.”

“And has he?”

“Yeah. I’d found one for him even before he went away. Lots of experience with combat stress, separation, abusive relationships, crazy exes, sexual assault, and same-sex couples. And a mouth sealed tighter than Fort Knox.”

“How?”

“I know a lotta people,” said Sam. “Of course, the guy’s way past retirement age. Which I was seeing as a minus until I remembered he’s twenty years younger than Steve.”

“Did he talk to you about why he was so upset?”

“We talked for about five hours, so yeah. It’s like getting blood from a stone to get him to open up, but... there was just a lot of stuff in there.”

“Is he still talking to you?”

“Not much.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You know Steve. His natural instinct? Clam up, push it down, and cope as best he can, even when his coping mechanisms are fucked up. That’s why I forced him to promise to go to counselling. He’s at least two pay grades over my expertise, not to mention we shouldn’t treat our friends.”

Natasha idly played with her fork, her appetite gone.

Sam took a bite of garlic bread and gazed at her. “You gonna ask me about the other half now?” he asked.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t talked to Steve about him, have you?”

Sam shook his head. “Bucky doesn’t want him to know anything. Steve’s given up asking.”

Natasha considered. Sam was still in touch with whoever happened to be guarding Bucky right now, since nobody in authority seemed to realize just how deeply he’d been involved with the Winter Soldier, but Natasha had distanced herself, in part because she was still being periodically questioned.

But maybe that was just an excuse.

“How is he?”

Sam grimaced. “Steve’s doing _awesome_ compared to Bucky. I’ve got word from the newest safehouse that he keeps trying to get out. They’ve foiled three attempts in the last week alone, and one time he actually got out - they just knocked him out before he could go too far. And they’re doing their best with him but he’s just nasty. Violent, hostile, snarling at everyone. Says they’re no better than HYDRA, he shouldn’t have given himself up.” He shook his head. “It’s like he was on his best behavior as long as Steve was there, and without Steve it’s all gone to shit.”

Natasha took a bite of her spaghetti, stolidly resisting the impulse to cover her face and scream.

“This isn’t your fault,” said Sam quietly.

Natasha frowned at him. “I’m well aware of that.”

“No, you’re not.” He put down his garlic bread and leaned forward. “This _isn’t_ your fault,” he repeated intently. “You were right to want Steve to come back, whether you manipulated it into happening or not. Never mind that he was about to have a warrant out for his arrest: he’s not responsible for Bucky’s condition and he was gonna throw away his whole life to help him. And there was no guarantee that it was gonna help.”

“Except that as soon as he left Bucky fell apart,” Natasha pointed out. “And now Steve’s falling apart too.” She put down her knife. “I thought at least I was protecting Steve.” She winced at how that came out. Whining and regrets were for people who could afford them.

“You can’t protect him. That’s life, Natasha,” said Sam gently. “Steve’s gonna move on, eventually. Bucky I don’t know. I’m good with soldiers coming home and PTSD and mourning and survivor guilt and even losing a husband or wife to mental illness. The timelines are a little screwed up, but there’s not a lot that Steve’s going through that other soldiers haven’t survived too.” He took a sip of his wine and shook his head. “I _don’t_ know ‘brainwashed into an assassin for seventy years.’ I got no clue what’s gonna happen there.”

****

3.

Natasha sipped her latte and checked the time. Twenty minutes till Steve was due to meet her at the cafe so they could go to the latest round of Winter Soldier testimony. She had time to waste, indulging in some mind-candy celebrity news and Angry Birds on her Starkpad, and centering herself before the hearing.

And hopefully this was the _last_ round of testimony. They’d reached an impasse in the last few weeks, really; she, Steve, Tony and Sam had said all they were going to say, Tony’s legal team had nicely made sure that there was little or no chance that they’d be challenged on the stuff they refused to talk about, Clint and Bruce had flown completely under the radar, and it looked like things were stabilizing.

Steve’s square-jawed earnestness was winning the day in the press. His staunch defence of Bucky had been largely accepted, and if Captain America said the man known as the Winter Soldier was in reality a war hero who was a little down on his luck, then by God, America was ready to believe him. Besides, Khloe Kardashian had just done a photo shoot for Hustler, and the Winter Soldier was _so_ last month. Of course everything could go haywire at today’s hearing, but with any luck, they were free and clear.

She turned on her Starkpad.

...or everything could go nuts.

_Bozhe moi._

_Captain America, Gay?!_ screamed the headline. Two grainy pictures of Steve in a restaurant with a dark-skinned man who was definitely not Sam accompanied the headline. They were smiling at each other, one photo showed them holding hands and the other had the man’s hand on Steve’s cheek, and neither looked platonic at all. Below was a very brief interview between Steve and the paper - oh good, at least this wouldn’t come as a shock to Steve, then.

_Rogers was asked whether he agreed that the photos were suggestive: “Yes, they are,” he said. He declined to make a statement, but told us, “Go ahead and print them.”_

Breathless speculation followed. Natasha groaned and clicked away.

Great. The initial story had been picked up everywhere. From the lead on the gossip sites to side bits on the mainstream sites, speculation about Steve was rocketing through cyberspace.

“Natasha,” Steve appeared beside her and she looked up. “Ready?” He handed her his extra helmet and headed for his motorcycle.

“Have you seen the news?” she asked as she followed him, tossing her forgotten latte in the trash as they left the cafe.

“What news?” he asked, preoccupied.

“Steve.” She put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “The call you got yesterday about some pictures? Of you on a date - with a man?”

Steve blinked. “Oh. Right.” He moved to his bike and got on, gesturing to her helmet.

“They published the pictures,” she said, putting the helmet on. “They said you told them to go ahead.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like there was any point in asking them not to.” He indicated the back of the bike. “Come on, Natasha. Get on. I don’t want to be late. There was roadwork slowing me down the whole way here.”

“Steve.” Natasha got on and put her arms around his waist. “This is serious.”

“Not as serious as being late to the hearing,” said Steve. He started the bike and they headed off, and Natasha reflected that she didn’t really want to have this conversation while yelling into the wind. Hopefully they’d have a few minutes to talk before the hearing.

They parked and headed toward the front doors of the building where the hearings were being held. As they approached, a young redheaded woman ran up to him, followed by two men with cameras. Some local news station, probably.

"Captain America, can you address the latest rumors about you?" she asked, shoving a microphone at Steve.

"What rumors?" Steve said, looking worried.

“Those pictures that were published? It looked like you were on a date?”

“I was.”

“So you’re gay?” she asked eagerly.

"I'm gay," Steve said brusquely. "I'm also a little busy. Was there something else you wanted to ask about?"

The reporter looked like Christmas, Thanksgiving and Cinco de Mayo had just come together all at once for her. Steve even looked like a celebrity reporter’s dashing dream, helmet under one arm and jacket opened to show a business suit underneath, his hair slightly ruffled by the wind. Natasha ran a quick hand through her hair.

“Did you want to make a statement?” asked the reporter.

Steve blinked. "Why? I just made one.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to the paper that called you about them last night?”

His lips pressed together briefly. “Because I can’t stop them from printing the pictures and I have nothing to hide, but I don’t feel like rewarding stalkers who follow people around when they’re just having dinner.”

“When did you know you were gay?”

Steve’s mouth quirked. “When did you know you were straight?” 

The reporter chuckled. “Some people have said that this is proof that this century is corrupting everyone, because you weren’t gay before.”

Steve’s lips thinned and Natasha was grateful for the reporter’s sake that she apparently wasn’t familiar with Steve’s ‘I have had just about enough of this bullshit’ face.

“Since none of them were in my bed before, I don’t see how they can say that. Gays existed back in my time too, you know. We were just forced to hide. Excuse me, we’ve got a hearing to attend.” He stepped past the reporter, who sidled up to Natasha.

“Did you know?” she asked Natasha. They entered the building.

“We all knew,” said Natasha. She jogged to catch up with Steve, heading for the elevator. “No, I’m sorry, we have to go over confidential documents,” she said, punching the button for the floor they were going to. The door closed and they were alone. “‘None of them were in my bed before?’” she said to Steve. “You know that’s going to be the clip played over and over on Youtube.”

Steve gave her a grim smile and looked at his reflection in the elevator mirror, taking off his outer jacket and straightening his tie.

“Are you OK?” asked Natasha, checking her own appearance as well. Late January on a motorcycle; it certainly heightened the color on her cheeks, and she’d made sure to wear something business-style-appropriate for the hearing, but not prone to getting mussed.

“Why wouldn’t I be OK?”

“You do realize it’s all over the news, right?”

“I’m familiar with how the internet works, yeah,” Steve said impatiently.

“How did your date go?” she asked him. He obviously didn’t feel like talking about being outed, and there was no time to have a heart-to-heart about the news anyway, what with the hearing happening in minutes.

“Fine.”

“Who was it?”

“Uh, Lee. Sam set us up. Nice guy.”

Natasha nodded. Sam had mentioned to her a week or so ago that he’d put Steve in touch with a single friend of his. _Can't have Captain America slutting around the gay bar scene_ , he’d muttered, and she had to agree.

“He’s a nice guy,” Steve repeated. “If it wasn’t for Bucky, I’d probably be very interested.” He took a deep breath. “So I’m giving this a shot, and we’re dating, because it’ll get you and Sam off my back and because I can’t wait for Bucky for the rest of my life.” He glanced at her. “And yes, Lee knows my issues. He’s got some of his own.”

“Good thing none of your hookups have come forward,” she said neutrally.

“Good thing.”

“So how many were there?”

“No idea,” said Steve indifferently, and Natasha didn't bother to argue with him. He was Captain America. He had an excellent serum-enhanced memory. There was no way he had no idea.

“That’s one good thing about this century,” she commented. “The fact that they were anonymous pickups might be more of a scandal than the fact that they were men.”

Steve shrugged. “I guess so.”

The elevator reached their floor and they got out, heading down the long carpeted hallway to the hearing room. Natasha noted gratefully that the place seemed fairly empty; though there had been a great deal of interest over the hearings when they’d started, with lots of press in attendance, it seemed to be old news now. And except for the reporter in front of the building, the rest of the media didn’t seem to have tracked Steve to this hearing, today. Yet.

“You preferred how things were in your time?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” he said. “It’s just... for the first little while after I got used to this century, it...” he searched for words. “It pissed me off.”

“What did?”

He looked down. "I was so jealous," he said, his voice low. "You have no idea. I know, it's not perfect today either. But the difference between then and now is - it's night and day."

"Was it that bad?"

He grimaced impatiently. "Natasha. It wasn't just being shy, or being afraid of being ostracized. It was being afraid for our lives. It was being afraid of going to prison. And we just accepted it, like we deserved it. Like there was no other way it could be.” He paused. “Bucky would sometimes talk about wishing things were different, but it was like wishing we could fly.”

“And that pisses you off now?”

Steve shrugged. “I know it’s petty, but all of this? All this acceptance and approval and being able to be together without hiding? We never got any of that. Now we never will.”

They entered the hearing room and Natasha nodded to Tony and Sam as they sat down. Tony was checking something that looked like a circuit design; Sam was reading over the last hearing’s transcript, and neither seemed to have seen the news this morning, if their complete lack of commentary was any indication.

She sat up as the panel began the questioning with her, and kept her face impassive as she answered their questions, spinning a little here, downplaying a little there, and wishing Tony would drop the sardonic smirk and snarky little asides, because it was really getting old.

In fact, this was all getting old. There was little that was new in the questioning today, as they moved from her to Sam. Even the mood in the chamber was a little perfunctory...

With occasional little undertones of excitement here and there, mostly from people looking down, presumably at their devices.

Wonderful. If only Steve hadn’t come out right now. But then again, it was going to happen eventually... may as well happen now.

She glanced around the hearing room. Now the press area was slowly filling up. This was supposed to have been the final tie-up before they got to serious negotiations about what to do with Bucky, but Natasha doubted it was going to remain that way. These reporters weren’t the same steady set of serious journalists she’d seen covering the story in-depth from the beginning, or the young ones assigned for occasional coverage once it became clear that, really, there weren’t going to be any major news items coming from these hearings after the first day.

These weren’t serious reporters. A bunch of them were celebrity news stalkers. Here because Steve had been semi-outed the day before, and possibly was being outed completely right now, depending on when the talk he’d just had with that reporter outside was posted.

The panel was asking a number of questions of Tony about his tech and how he’d helped track the Winter Soldier, to which Tony was replying with his regular smart-assery to the tune of, “If I tell you exactly how it works, it wouldn’t do much good, would it?”

There was a brief break as Tony’s questions ended and the members of the panel convened. A discussion, which soon turned into furious whispers, seemed to be going on between two of them in particular. Finally they turned back to the team.

“Captain Rogers,” Senator McAllen, who’d been markedly unsympathetic so far, began. “We’d like to ask you some additional questions about your relationship with Sergeant Barnes in light of... recent developments.”

Steve nodded and moved closer to the microphone.

The Senator’s sharp blue eyes bored into Steve’s. “I take it you’ve made a bit of a splash in the media today.”

“Yes, sir,” said Steve. Tony frowned at him and looked down at his Starkpad, rapidly typing. He drew in his breath and jerked his head up, glaring at Natasha.

“Did you know about this?” he whispered. Natasha nodded and Tony tilted the pad so that Sam could look at it too.

Natasha leaned closer to the microphone. “I trust these questions will be relevant to the purpose of this panel, Senator,” she said.

“They will be,” the Senator replied.

Sam’s lips were pressed together as his eyes scanned over the words - and oh good, there was a link to a video with the redheaded reporter’s picture on it. Steve glanced at Natasha and she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Your position has always been that the Winter Soldier was not responsible for any of the crimes he’s guilty of,” the Senator began.

“That’s correct,” said Steve.

“It’s the position of all of the Avengers, Senator,” Natasha reminded him.

“And you’ve argued against having him pay for his crimes.”

“Against having to pay for what he was _forced to do_ , yeah,” Tony clarified.

“Captain Rogers, were you and Sergeant Barnes intimate?”

There was a rustle from the media, and a long pause as Steve looked down.

“Yes,” he said, and there was a murmur around the room.

“Since when?”

“Since we were teenagers.”

There was a long pause. “Did it occur to you to tell this panel?” asked the Senator.

“Nobody asked, and it wasn’t my place to tell, sir,” Steve said tightly. “Sergeant Barnes wasn’t here to agree to be outed.”

“So why tell us now?”

“Because I’m under oath and I don’t have a choice.”

“You do realize this makes all of your testimony suspect,” said the Senator. “You’re biased.”

“Yes, sir, I am,” Steve agreed. “But I don’t think I’d be less biased if we’d never slept together. We’ve been best friends since childhood. Everybody on this panel knew that.”

“And hey, _I’ve_ never slept with the guy,” said Tony helpfully. “None of us have. And we’re saying the same thing Captain Rogers is.”

The Senator pointedly ignored Tony. “You were involved while you were in the Army?”

“Yes sir,” said Steve.

“That was illegal at the time. It was illegal to serve at all if you were a homosexual. You were breaking the law, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was,” he said evenly.

“In fact, you had to lie to get in, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You felt you were justified?” asked another member of the panel, a Colonel who’d seemed mutedly sympathetic to them in the past.

“Yes ma’am, I did. We both did. Our country needed us.”

She gave him a small smile.

“The fact is, though, that you lied because you felt you knew better,” said the Senator heavily. “You were not above breaking the law--”

“No sir, I wasn’t,” Steve said, and the Senator blinked as Steve leaned forward, still polite, but steely-voiced and visibly angry. “I could have used any number of reasons to not serve, including the fact that I was a homosexual during a time when our country felt that we would rather lose the war than have men like me serving. When our government felt that men like me were a greater threat than _Nazism_.”

The Senator had the grace to look uncertain. “Still, your illicit relationship--”

“The only thing _illicit_ about it was the bigotry of the time,” Steve snapped. “And if you’re trying to make me feel ashamed, or defensive, you’ll have to try a little harder. In my day having something like this come out meant a lot more than disapproving looks and insinuations: it meant prison and complete disgrace.” He paused a moment, pressing his lips together, and Natasha could feel the press behind her frantically recording and taking notes. “Yes, Bucky and I were in a relationship,” he said, a little more quietly. “And yes, we both hid our orientation from the Army in order to defend our country. I still feel that we were right, and I would do it again in a second.”

There was a brief pause and the Senator looked down at his notes. “Sergeant Barnes was known as a ladies’ man, wasn’t he?”

Steve blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“Even though he was a homosexual.”

“We sure like saying that word, don’t we?” Tony muttered under his breath, loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. There was a rustle of amusement from the rapidly filling press section.

“So he was fairly skilled at deception,” the Senator pointed out. “Even before his supposed brainwashing.”

Steve flushed. “He was a single man in the thirties and forties, sir. He did like women, but he also knew he had to keep up an image or be suspected.”

“So it was all just an act? He didn’t have dozens of girlfriends, like the history books say?”

Steve shook his head. “He did, but he also played up the image.”

“But you were a couple?” the Senator asked, and Steve nodded. “And he cheated on you?”

“Excuse me sir,” Natasha leaned forward. “Is this an inquiry into Sergeant Barnes and the danger he poses to the American public, or is this an inquiry into whether he’s gay or bisexual?”

“Or is this just random prying into Captain America’ sexual history?” asked Tony innocently.

“It’s relevant,” said the Senator, glaring at Tony.

“I’m not sure it is,” said another member of the panel.

“It’s relevant because they could still be together. And if Captain Rogers was able to find excuses for infidelity--”

“We are not still together,” said Steve, annoyed. “Sir, I’ve pointed out several times under oath that I have not seen James Barnes in months. I have no idea where he is. I am currently dating somebody else.” Muted thrum from the press. “I’m not here testifying as Bucky’s partner, I’m here as a friend and as somebody who knows him well and who understands what kind of danger he poses, and what his role was in becoming dangerous.” He glared at the Senator. “We are not here to talk about whether and when we slept together seventy years ago; we’re here to talk about what he’s like now, and what should be done with him.”

The Senator glanced around. “All right, then, let’s talk about that. He hasn’t just hurt people as the Winter Soldier. He hurt people after his capture.”

“After he turned himself in to us, yes,” Steve clarified. “We testified to that.”

“He was violent to the people helping him.”

“He’s confined, and he’s been conditioned to try to get out by any means necessary,” said Natasha.

“Did he ever attack you?” the Senator asked Steve, ignoring Natasha.

“Yes, he did,” said Steve, and there was a rustle from the press.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“He was able to damage you, even though you’re a super soldier? What chance do the rest of us have?”

“I can be damaged,” Steve pointed out calmly. “I just heal more quickly. And yes, he was able to hurt me even though most other people can’t, because he’s faster and stronger than anyone else, including me.” There was another rustle. “He’s had training, and he didn’t hold back. That’s why we didn’t feel safe releasing him to the public.”

“What did you think, when he attacked you? Even though you had been... involved in the past?”

“That it was better me than anyone else, because I’d heal,” said Steve steadily. “I didn’t hold it against him. It was... difficult to be his victim. But I remembered that he was a victim too.”

Natasha kept her face impassive. The panel thought he was just talking about the attacks on the Helicarrier, and the times Bucky had meltdowns during his confinement. Steve was treading a fine line here; they’d been able to keep anything else out of the panel discussions so far...

“But you expect the rest of us to just forgive him for this kind of behavior--” the Senator began.

“I don’t expect anything, sir. Except for him to be given the respect he’s earned, despite the danger he may pose.”

Congressman Hynes, the other hardline member of the panel, spoke up. “Something we haven’t addressed is the fact that if if he’s able to do damage to the only super soldier in existence--”

“We _have_ discussed it,” said the Colonel who’d asked Steve about feeling justified in lying in order to serve. “And we’ve rejected your suggestion.”

“What suggestion?” asked Natasha.

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are both recipients of the Serum,” said the Congressman. “Captain Rogers has been invaluable to us, both during the War and in recent years. One of the things Barnes might be able to do to atone for his past actions--”

“He doesn’t need to atone for anything,” said Steve.

“He is a war criminal and an assassin--”

“How about we point out that he’s also got a lot of other labels that fit,” Sam snapped. “Like war hero.”

“Victim of human trafficking,” said Tony.

“Prisoner of war,” said Sam.

“Torture victim,” said Natasha.

“He’s in the Smithsonian exhibit as the only Howling Commando to have given his life for his country,” said Steve, “and that’s still true. In fact, he gave more than a lifetime; everything that happened to him for seventy years happened because of his service.”

“Be that as it may, if he is able to cause damage to you, he’s a powerful weapon,” said the Congressman, unmoved. “A weapon that obviously should not be allowed to fall into enemy hands, but a weapon that probably shouldn’t go unused. Not when we can--”

“He’s a human being,” said Sam forcefully. “ _Not_ a weapon.”

“He could put the training he received for good, to redeem himself--”

"He doesn't need to redeem himself!!" Steve said furiously. "You don't need to _redeem_ yourself for what was done _to_ you!"

“He worked for our enemies for decades,” the Congressman insisted. “He was their tool. He could be a powerful tool for us now.”

“Congratulations, Congressman,” said Natasha. “You sound just like HYDRA.”

“I object to that!”

“You can’t object,” Tony pointed out helpfully. “You’re running this meeting.”

“And I don’t think we’ve learned anything new in this round of questioning,” said the Colonel. “I don’t think we will learn anything new.” She glanced around, and with the exception of the belligerent Senator and Congressmen, the other members of the panel nodded. “I call this meeting closed. This panel will discuss our findings, and let you know our conclusions. Then we will discuss what to do about Sergeant Barnes.”

The panel filed out, to a general buzz of conversation, and Natasha could see the reporters priming to rush them and question them. She took out her own phone - no surprise, there were a number of texts from Clint, the first one being simply _WTFF STEVE_. The second was a link to the “None of them was in my bedroom” clip with _Steve, u snarky bastard, ilu_ , and the third said, _slashy fangirls jizzing all over america *right* *now*_. Natasha turned it off.

“Sorry, we have to meet with our team,” Tony was saying to a reporter, and they stood to go. Tony clapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders and murmured something into his ear - probably “Laugh as though I just said something funny,” judging from how they both chuckled a moment later - and they headed out and through the throng of shouting reporters to the elevator.

“Sorry, this car is full,” Tony said cheerfully and the door closed. He dropped his cheerful demeanor. “You OK?” he asked Steve.

“That could’ve gone better,” Steve responded tightly.

“I dunno... the story right now is you coming out, and your relationship to Bucky. Possibly the Congressman’s idea of using Bucky as a weapon, and all of us saying Hell no. I think we can spin all of that positively.”

“You mean, keep the focus on that, and not on Bucky being dangerous right now?” Steve asked grimly.

Tony nodded.

“I got the feeling that most of the panel isn’t interested in making Bucky pay for what he did as Winter Soldier,” said Natasha.

“Me too,” said Sam. “We’ll have to wait to see what their report says.”

Steve’s phone buzzed, and he took it out and looked at it. He sighed.

“What?”

“It’s Lee,” he said wearily.

“Hey, I did warn the guy that he might be getting into a shit-show, dating an Avenger,” said Sam.

“Not sure he could’ve expected a shit-show this big, this soon,” said Steve wryly.

“It’s a hell of a lot of pressure to put on a brand new relationship, don’t you think?” said Tony.

“You think so?” Steve grimaced. “Gee, I wouldn’t know anything about putting pressure on a relationship.”

Tony chuckled. “All right, let’s go,” he said. “We’ll call in Bruce and Clint, you can call your new guy back in private, and we’ll talk about what we’re doing next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter has been sent to beta. Hopefully it will be up in a week. ::crossing fingers::
> 
>  
> 
> Note on possible squick: Steve sleeps with someone else in this chapter. And Natasha finds out that he's had a number of one-night stands. Nothing is shown; Natasha just meets a man who is leaving Steve's apartment in the morning, and then asks Steve about it. Steve then ends up going on an actual date with someone else.


	10. Even when I had nothing, I had you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up having a bit more time than I'd thought, and getting this ready sooner rather than later. Thanks so much to stressedspidergirl and JustLikeLuna, especially for your thoughts on the last scene.

****

1.

Natasha glanced at Bucky’s cell on the monitor, as she and Bruce waited for the safehouse agent to finish security proceedings - namely, sedating Bucky briefly so that he couldn’t escape once his door was opened.

It wasn’t so bad. It was small, but he’d earned a few furnishings again. Apparently they’d been taken from him after too many attempts to use furniture - or pieces of furniture - as weapons or break-out tools.

He also had a stack of books a mile high. A guitar, too. That was interesting.

He seemed to be getting better, for a given value of “better.” Not doing as well as Steve, who seemed a lot more peaceful and was still in a low-key relationship with Lee despite the rocky start, of being exposed in the press as “Captain America’s Brand New Love!” Bucky was still surly and hostile these days, but not uncontrollably violent quite so much. Progress, of a sort.

The agent in charge nodded and opened the door, and she and Bruce entered. They approached the couch where Bucky had sat down to await sedation and sat on the nearest chairs to wait for Bucky to wake up.

Five minutes later, he was shaking his head and blinking, his systems back to normal. He gave them a look of barely suppressed suspicion and cautious pleasure, as he focused on them.

“You’re back,” he said by way of greeting.

“We’re back,” Bruce agreed pleasantly.

“Why?”

“We’ve brokered a deal,” said Natasha. “Sort of.”

“What kind of deal?”

“We’ve spent the last several months dealing with the government, talking to them about your case.”

“To stop them from having me executed?”

“Or imprisoned permanently in a federal containment unit,” she said. “Some of it has to do with your past activities. Some of it has to do with today.” She looked around. “You didn’t make it easy. We have the reports of how you acted the first little while after Steve left.”

“Shared that with the government, huh?” asked Bucky, a grim smirk playing on his lips. “What did they think?”

“Nothing,” said Bruce. “Because we didn’t share it.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up.

“We didn’t see any point to it. We couldn’t lie, but we didn’t have to give any details.”

Bucky nodded cautiously.

Natasha sat back. “What happened? Did you need to have an extended tantrum when Steve left?”

Bucky quirked his lips slightly. “Something like that, I guess.”

“And you’re done now?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” asked Bruce.

“Why?” Bucky glared at them both. “I mean, what does it matter? I’m never getting outta here anyway. Whether I’m in some government prison or here, it’s all the same.”

“We were talking about getting you out altogether.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “That’s impossible.”

Natasha shrugged. “So you had a relapse under stress. It doesn’t mean you can’t get back on the straight and narrow. You’ve been doing it on your own, without even having Steve here to behave for.”

Bucky gave her a slightly disbelieving look. “What if I have another relapse?”

“We’re betting that won’t happen once you have some freedom,” said Bruce. “And support outside.”

“And if it does, you’d be fitted with surveillance and a way to make sure you can be sedated,” Natasha put in. “Or terminated, if necessary.”

His eyebrows shot up again. “‘Terminated.’ Bet they don’t call it that.”

“They don’t - they call it ‘permanently contained.’ I don’t see any point in treating you with kid gloves. I prefer honesty.”

“You’re a bit of a bitch,” he said, with a muted version of the grin she’d seen in history books; the one that had made him such a legendary ladies’ man.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling back.

“So what’s this deal you’ve brokered?”

“It’s going to take a while,” said Bruce. “You’ll have to show you can keep up good behavior for a few months. And it won’t be freedom. You’ll still be watched, you’ll still be monitored, you’ll still have somebody responsible for you. You won’t know who it is, either. There are a few individuals like you, being monitored through cooperation between SHIELD and the government.”

Natasha smiled at him. “You’d be part of an elite set. So deep nobody knows about it except those who are being monitored.”

Bucky snorted. “Elite, huh?”

“I’ll help,” said Bruce. “I told you before, I’ve got a lot of experience dealing with a monster inside. I was planning on coming more often before you...” he paused, looking for a sensitive way to describe Bucky’s behavior.

“Went off the deep end after sending Steve packing?” Bucky finished for him wryly. “You sure? You’re not worried that I’ll trigger you again?”

Bruce shook his head. “If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t have advocated that you be let out,” he pointed out.

He gazed at them seriously. “I... I don’t know that you’re right to trust me.”

Natasha leaned forward again. “We don’t, not fully.” Bucky relaxed slightly, and she remembered that feeling - remembered how it felt to know that you were somehow _safer_ around people who knew you weren’t to be trusted. “Look at who you’re talking to. We know what it’s like to be dangerous. But other people helped us in spite of that. We’re offering to do the same with you.”

“Why? Especially after the last few months?”

“You had a relapse after you kicked Steve out. But the fact is, you _did_ kick him out. You could’ve kept him here forever.”

Bucky grimaced. “So that’s all it took to win you over?”

Natasha winced. OK, she probably deserved that one. “It wasn’t a minor thing,” she said. “And I know how much it cost you.”

Bucky looked down at the floor for a long time. “Yeah.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Do you want to work with us, to get out?”

Bucky took a deep breath, then nodded.

Natasha paused for a moment. She’d debated this with herself. It might not be the smartest thing in the world to encourage him, she knew that, but... maybe it was the human thing. “Do you want to know how Steve’s doing?” she asked.

Bucky flinched, and Bruce turned to look at her, an unreadable look on his face. “It’s probably better that I don’t. Attachment isn’t healthy. He’s got his life to live and I’ve got mine.”

“If you say so.” She took out her printouts and handed them to him. “Let’s go over the details of this life, then, shall we?”

**2.**

Natasha leaned her head back on the seat and stretched, glancing out the window. They were flying over the ocean, a dark mass under them. She had a vague sense of deja vu, to a night not that long ago when she and Steve had been flying over a dark ocean, with the STRIKE team surrounding them, and she’d been trying to set Steve up for a date.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

This was better. Tony’s plane was somewhat more comfortable, and the STRIKE team had been replaced by Clint, Sam and a few techs - most of whom were dozing after a hard battle with HYDRA, except for one who was absorbed in a video game.

She looked over at Steve, leaning against the window and looking a little sleepy himself, the shield at his feet.

“How’s your shoulder?” she asked.

He blinked and cautiously moved it. “Mostly healed. How’s your elbow?”

She grimaced. “That’ll take a little longer.”

Steve’s phone buzzed and he yawned and took a look at it, smiling slightly. He quickly texted something back and leaned back, gazing out at the window again.

“Lee?” Natasha guessed.

“Yeah,” said Steve. “Checking that I’m OK.”

“Did the battle make it onto the news?”

“Yeah, a small mention, apparently. He’s got an alert on Avengers bits.” He yawned again. “Told him we were done and everyone was OK.”

“Are you meeting him tonight?”

“No, he’s in Colorado with his folks.”

Natasha nodded. “Have you met them?”

Steve blinked. “It’s... a little early for that, I think.” He grimaced. “Though they’ve seen me in the news.”

“How are they? Are they OK with their son dating a celebrity?”

Steve shrugged. “Not sure. I think his mom was a little confused by the [article in The Advocate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3349574), but then again, so was I.”

Natasha chuckled. Steve had agreed to talk to a young man doing a project, for a college course on gay history, and the kid had been encouraged to submit his story to The Advocate by his professor. Steve, amused, had given his permission - and then watched in bewilderment as the interview piece had gone viral.

“His mom didn’t like the publicity?”

“She wasn’t sure about it.” He shrugged. “They’re elderly.”

“They’re probably a lot younger than you are,” Natasha pointed out. She wondered how some of the more meme-worthy quotes from the article had gone over with them.

Beside them, Sam snored lightly. Clint, stirring from his light doze, nudged Sam and then blinked open his eyes. He yawned and went to rub them, wincing as he touched his impressive shiner, courtesy of a HYDRA agent who’d used some sort of eye-targeting weapon. Clint had been lucky he’d been able to (barely) avoid serious injury and keep his nickname.

“God damn HYDRA psychos,” he muttered, and closed his eyes again, sinking back into sleep.

“I wonder if the people we fight ever worked with Bucky, every time we raid a scientific base,” Steve said softly. He still said the name carefully, like a wound that wasn’t quite healed, but was on the way to it.

“I always wonder how many of them are former SHIELD,” said Natasha.

Steve nodded. “That too.” He looked out the window. “We worked with so many of the guys who knew about Bucky. They _knew_. If I had them in front of me I’d--” he broke off. “It’s not great, knowing you’d be happy to murder someone in cold blood.”

“You’ve never liked bullies. That’s what they are.”

“It wouldn’t be for justice or to protect others from them, though. It would just be revenge.” He looked down at his shield. “I felt the same way during the War, too, whenever we took down HYDRA bases. Wondering if these were people who’d experimented on him.”

“How bad was it? What happened the first time HYDRA had him?”

"I never knew. When I found him I could tell he’d been roughed up pretty bad - he was strapped to a table and babbling - but we never got the records from that place because it blew up. He had nightmares about it sometimes, but he never talked to anyone about what happened. Not even me."

“What a surprise,” said Natasha dryly. “He sounds like a male born in the previous century.”

Steve chuckled, then checked his phone as it buzzed again. “Lee says goodnight,” he said.

“How does Lee feel about your job?”

“He’s a veteran,” said Steve. “He knows the risks.”

“I thought Sam met him through the VA.”

“Yeah.”

“You still being in combat doesn’t bother him?”

Steve gave her a slight smile. “It’s... a work in progress. He’s got... issues too. We don’t fight over it, but it’s not easy for him.”

Natasha nodded. He sounded guardedly happy about the relationship. And this was more than she’d heard him say about Lee since they’d started dating.

“Sounds serious,” she said cautiously.

Steve tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know. It could be.” He chuckled tiredly. “Could be we’ll break up next week. Who knows. I don’t have the best record in the world.”

“Would you be OK with that?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s strange, I never knew just how devastating break-ups were before - well, before last year. I mean, I wasn’t happy either before, when I’d send Bucky away, but at least it was my choice.” He shook his head. “I put him through so much. I thought it was the right thing, at the time, but... damn, he went through so much for me.” He smiled sadly.

“Sam said you’re still seeing a therapist.”

“That’s gonna go on for a while, I think,” said Steve. “He’s a nice guy. It’s easier than I thought it would be, explaining stuff to him.”

“Good.”

Steve hesitated. “I finally talked to him about... about Bucky.” He paused. “About what happened right before I went to live with him.”

He still couldn’t say the word, though, thought Natasha. Or maybe he could; just not to her. “What did he say?”

“He doesn’t really say much,” said Steve. “For all I know he may think I’m a lunatic for going to live with him after that. I don’t know.”

“What did you think?”

“It made a lot of stuff clearer.”

“Like what?”

“Made me feel better about being angry at him,” he said quietly. “For what he did and for sending me away.” He looked down. “And for... for being so different from who he was before. It wasn’t fair, but I almost hated him, for a while. Wished I’d never met him.”

Natasha nodded. “Not surprising.”

“Loving him was the one constant I had,” Steve said. “I didn’t really question it. And then when he was so different, I couldn’t handle it. I thought I could, but it just ate away at me.”

“Loyalty isn’t a bad thing, you know,” Natasha pointed out.

“No, but... when it backfires on you...” Steve trailed off. “I even... part of me wished he’d died in the War,” he admitted, his voice low. “When he was still who he used to be.”

“You know he’s probably wished that too,” Natasha said gently. “Probably more than you have.”

“I don’t any more.” He sighed. “It also made me wish I could’ve been able to do more for him, though. Somehow managed to stay in contact with him, without making him feel guilty, without letting him manipulate me.”

“You helped him, you know. You treated him like a person, not a weapon. He needed that.”

“I treated him like he was still Bucky. He’s not.”

“No, but part of him still is. You helped him see that not all of him died on that mountain.”

“I probably made him feel like he had to be the Bucky of before, as much as possible. To be able to manipulate me, if nothing else.” Steve met her eyes. “And I obviously didn’t help him enough. We worked out a deal for him, but he’s still not free.”

“He will be,” said Natasha.

“Yeah, who knows when, though,” he said glumly, staring back out the window. “For all I know, it could be years.”

“When he does get out, would you want to see him?”

Steve hesitated. “I... I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“I love him. That’s never gonna change.” He sighed. “But... but I don’t want to do anything to make things harder for him.”

“What about harder for yourself?”

“That too.” He cleared his throat. “And it wouldn’t exactly be fair to Lee, either.”

Natasha nodded, reflecting that Steve had literally never been in a relationship that wasn’t painful, and filled with guilt and fear. This thing with Lee must be throwing him for a loop, all ‘issues’ with the dangers of his day job aside.

“It’s not a crime to not want to get hurt again,” she said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Steve nodded. “I know.”

And he did seem to know that. Maybe therapy and time away was helping. Maybe even if he did see Bucky again, he might actually be able to be around him without automatically going into self-sacrificing idiot mode.

“There’s no guarantee he’d want to see me anyway,” Steve pointed out.

“Do you want me to let you know if he does, when the time comes?” asked Natasha.

Steve regarded her seriously. “Would you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He tilted his head to the side, considering seriously and then choosing his words carefully. “You seem to think you know what I need more than I do.”

“I know.” She looked back at him, unsure how to proceed. “Maybe... maybe I’d like to change that.”

His lips quirked. “Is that because you think you were wrong, or because you think I can make better decisions now?”

She thought it over. “Can it be both?”

Steve’s eyebrows went up, then he gazed at her thoughtfully for a few moments before giving her a small smile. “I can live with that.”

****

3.

It didn’t take nearly as long as she’d assumed it would, Natasha thought four months later, as she waited for Bucky to wake up from sedation. He’d been kept sedated during transportation from his cell - not because anybody thought he’d attack his jailers, but because he couldn’t know where his last safehouse was.

She smiled down at him as he woke up. 

“You ready?”

“Ready,” he said, looking nervous.

He looked ready. She’d taken the time to get to know him better in the last four months. He hadn’t had a single incident, though there had been a few close calls. Knowing he was getting out seemed to make all the difference.

Not that everything was peachy. For the foreseeable future, he would still be essentially incarcerated at the end of every day. He would still be monitored while he was out, was still fitted with an anklet that would sedate him at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t even be told who had him under surveillance.

But he wasn’t physically in a cell 24/7. He wasn’t being held responsible for his supposed crimes. There was even talk of allowing him to work with whatever SHIELD was these days, if he wanted to, though Steve’s attitude toward that was still an adamant Hell No. Except for a few holdouts, nobody was really concerned about his loyalties; only his self-control, and his vulnerability should HYDRA choose to try to use him again.

It wasn’t ideal. Nothing was. But it was a hell of a lot better than many of the scenarios they’d considered since he’d first been identified as Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier.

“All right. Where do you want to go?” she asked him as soon as they were alone.

“I don’t know. I can go anywhere?”

“Anywhere you want,” said Natasha. “I picked the city, but you pick the destination.”

They got onto the train and Natasha smiled at Bucky’s barely-concealed look of satisfaction. They both knew that unseen monitors were doing their job, but Bucky didn’t seem to care.

She remembered her own freedom from SHIELD’s headquarters after SHIELD had decided to trust her, months after she’d let Clint bring her in. Knowing that there were probably agents around watching her every move and being unable to give a damn, as she felt the sunshine on her face and the wind in her hair. All the little things that you take for granted when you’re able to enjoy them all the time.

He must have been such a force of nature as a kid and young man, she thought, as he gazed in barely-concealed wonder at all the sights and sounds of freedom, and of Washington on a beautiful July day.

She could see why Steve had fallen for him, and fallen so hard. The fear and pain of all those years of torture and abuse had left their indelible mark on him, but she could see glimpses of the bright, passionate man Steve had known.

They visited the White House, the Washington Monument, the World War II Memorial. All places that Bucky told her he’d never been to - at least, he had no memory of any of them. He’d gotten back a lot of his memories of assignments around the world, but somehow he’d apparently never been sent to Washington except for the attempt on Fury. He’d never seen most of the symbols of the country he’d been brainwashed into hating.

They walked down the Vietnam Memorial, Bucky’s hand running along the rows and rows of names, of young men who went off to war and never came back. He looked at the cards and flowers that people still left here for their lost boys, and Natasha wondered if he was thinking of Steve visiting his own grave just across the Potomac at Arlington, a twenty-minute walk away. It now had security cameras posted around it to prevent people from vandalizing it, after being connected to a man that some people were still calling a terrorist and war criminal. His expression was thoughtful, but not brooding, and when they emerged on the other side of the Vietnam Memorial, he set off for the Lincoln Memorial.

Steve would love to see this, though Natasha. See Bucky calm and centered, no longer the resentful, dangerous tiger in a cage. Not that she for one moment doubted just how dangerous he could be, but the difference was night and day. No tension under the surface, as his conditioning clawed at him to get out, get out, get out, by any means necessary.

It still told him to look for exits, weaknesses, opportunities. It probably always would - Natasha’s certainly did. But that was manageable.

They ate hot dogs at a park and she gave him her Starkpad to browse through. He typed away at it, eyebrows rising at some of the weirder stories in the news.

“All right,” she said as they threw out the trash from their lunch. “We’ve got another two hours before you’re due at the base where you’ll be staying.”

“What are we going to do?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

“What?”

“You know, you can choose Washington as your home base,” she told him. “You can live here.”

Bucky blinked. “I thought that had been decided. I thought that’s why we were getting to know the city, because I was assigned here.”

“No, I decided where you went the first day. You don’t have to live here. You haven’t been assigned anything; you can choose another base.”

“Why would I?”

“Because Steve lives here.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “He’s in Washington again?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he’d be in New York.”

“No. He thought about it, but it’s too different from how he remembers it. I think he’s also not that enthused about living in Avengers Tower and he didn’t want to hurt Tony’s feelings by moving somewhere else in the city. He moved back here last month.”

He swallowed. “How’s he doing?”

She took her Starkpad from him and opened up a folder of bookmarks, filled with recent news items about Steve. He hesitated, then slowly took it from her grasp and started to scan through, and his eyes flicked quickly back and forth, taking in the information.

She glanced around the park as Bucky read, thinking about Steve. About how much better Steve was doing now than at any point since she’d met him. How much more peaceful he seemed, doing work that he seemed to believe in, as adjusted to this century as he could be, living his life free of guilt and fear and overwhelming grief...

It was possible that what she was about to do could be the worst possible thing for him. But it was also possible that she needed to have a little faith in him.

“He looks happy,” said Bucky, his voice small.

“He is. He’s doing well.”

“Can’t believe he came out and it’s... it’s _fine_ ,” Bucky mused. “A few nutjobs ranting and a few people saying they’re tired of hearing about celebrities’ personal lives, and everyone else just...” he shook his head.

Natasha glanced at the screen, recognizing the photo that had accompanied the article in The Advocate. He looked thoughtful, as if he was thinking about his answer to the interview question below the photo.

_What would you say to him, if you could talk to him now?_

_I'd tell him I'm sorry I sent him away all those times. I’d tell him I’m sorry I didn’t give us a chance, and didn’t try to make it work back then._

“Is he.” Bucky swallowed. “Is he seeing anyone?”

Natasha shook her head. “Not any more. He was going out with a really nice guy for a couple of months, but they cooled off about a month ago - I think it was just too tough on Lee to deal with Steve’s job. They’re still friends, though.”

Bucky swallowed again. “That’s... that’s good. He needs friends.” He gazed at the screen. “I did the right thing, didn’t I? Sending him away?”

Natasha nodded. “He needed to deal with what had happened.” Bucky shivered. “Not just with you. With everything since the War. He hadn’t done a very good job of it on his own.”

Bucky nodded.

“It wasn’t easy,” said Natasha. “He was pretty messed up.”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t all your fault. I don’t even think it was all from being thrown into the future. Nobody who volunteers for the kind of procedure he did is entirely well.”

Bucky’s lip twitched. “He’s always been a maladjusted punk.” He gazed at Steve’s picture, and Natasha could sense the longing in him. It was an almost physical ache.

“He’s better now,” said Natasha. “Goes to all of his appointments with his shrink. Doesn’t destroy too many punching bags. He was a little disappointed about things ending with Lee, but he’s doing OK.”

Bucky nodded. “Good. Steve... he deserves that.” He swallowed. “Good for him. I’m happy for him.” He took a deep breath and gathered himself. “OK. Let’s go.”

Natasha stayed where she was. “Where?”

“I’d like to check into the base, go over protocols. Maybe look at where else I can go.”

“You’re not going to say hi?”

Bucky hesitated. “Nat. I can’t. I’m - I’m happy for him, OK? And maybe someday I can - you know, someday we can be pals again. Right now it’s, uh, it’s...” he trailed off.

Natasha waited a long moment. “Bucky Barnes, you’re not a coward.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“Say hello.”

“He’s doing well. I don’t want to--”

“Bucky.” Natasha took a deep breath. “Listen to me. He’s doing well. He’s stable. And you’re doing better too. You can go and talk to him without both of you falling apart.”

“What if--” he stopped, swallowed hard. For a master assassin and spy, he was remarkably awkward and tongue-tied. He sounded about fifteen years old.

“What if what?” asked Natasha patiently.

“What if I can’t just say hi? What if he wants - what if I say--”

“What if you want to pick up where you left off?”

Bucky nodded miserably.

“Are you aware that you’re giving an excellent impression of the meaning of the word ‘emo’?”

Bucky scowled at her and she suddenly had a vivid image of Steve’s face when she’d told him Bucky was being released. He’d paused for a long time, then said, “Yeah. I want to see him.”

“Are you sure?” she’d asked him.

“No. I thought about it for a long time, though.” He’d looked at her. “What do you think?”

“I think you might get hurt again,” she’d said. “But it’s not my call to make.”

“Neither one of you is particularly fragile,” she said to Bucky now. “Whatever happens, happens. I think you can handle it, but nobody’s going to force you.”

Bucky bowed his head and stared down at his hands for a long time. “Where is he?” he finally asked.

Natasha nodded at the building next to them.

“What?” Bucky’s eyes widened. “Here? You just... brought me to the park next to his building?”

She pulled her phone out and raised her eyebrows. Bucky took a deep breath, then nodded quickly.

She called Steve. “I’ve got someone who wants to say hi,” she said without preamble once he picked up. “Do still you want to?”

There was an almost audible gulp on the line. “OK. Uh. OK.” There was a short pause. “At the cafe?”

“Back booth,” she said, and headed for the near-empty cafe next to the park, Bucky following bemused in her wake. They ordered coffees, sitting in silence for a few minutes, Bucky’s cup sitting ignored as he watched the door.

She felt him draw in his breath next to her as Steve appeared at the door and his gaze focused immediately on the back booth. They stared at each other, Steve’s eyes widening slightly as he took in Bucky’s short hair, his clear eyes and hesitant expression.

“Bucky,” he breathed.

He quickly made his way to the back booth, Bucky stood - and both stayed frozen in place for a moment, uncertainty and nervousness thick between them, Natasha utterly forgotten. Then Steve broke the tableau, stepping forward and reaching out for Bucky. Bucky pulled him close, his eyes closing as they came together, and held each other tight for a long, long moment.

“God, it’s good to see you,” Steve said, his voice only slightly unsteady, as they finally broke apart.

“You too,” said Bucky.

They sat and Steve ordered a coffee. Natasha glanced around, briefly wondering what the handful of other patrons would think if any of them learned that the two young men with her, hesitantly picking up a conversation, were trying to work their way back to trust after more strain than any friendship should be asked to bear. That they were lovers of eighty years, in the bodies of men in their twenties.

They chatted inconsequentially for a while, talking about what Bucky had seen today, and then Natasha checked the time.

“Well, we’ve got about an hour and a half before you need to check in,” she said to Bucky, abruptly standing up. “I’ve got some stuff I need to look over. I’ll be over there if you need me,” she gestured to one of the other tables, turning on her Starkpad.

Bucky and Steve turned identical looks of surprise at her.

“Uh... what?” said Steve.

“Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring me?” asked Bucky.

“I don’t have to sit with you and listen in on every word to do that,” Natasha pointed out. “There’s somebody keeping track of you at the base anyway. Have some time to yourselves.” She moved to the front booth.

“That... was unexpected,” Steve’s voice said over her earpiece, to Bucky’s answering chuckle, and Natasha smiled. She hesitated a moment, then turned the earpiece off.

She logged into her Avengers account to look over their next HYDRA offensive, and found a fairly new text from Clint.

_hows our favorite assassin?_

_Fine._ she texted back. _Talking to Steve._

_what about?_

_I don’t know. I’ve turned off my surveillance._

_really?_

_They’re both grownups. And acting like it._

_u never bothered to wait for me to act like a grownup before treating me like one_

_I don’t have that kind of time on my hands._

_harsh_

She looked over at Steve and Bucky, who were now looking somewhat more relaxed, then looked back down and started in on the HYDRA notes.

A while later, Natasha looked up and turned on her earpiece monitor. Steve was leaning back a bit, stirring his coffee. “No, you'd like him,” he was saying. “He's a bit like Joey Griffson, remember him?”

“Kid who ended up running the corner store when his old man got blitzed?”

“Him, yeah,” Steve's face lit up at Bucky's easy memory retrieval. “He was in Afghanistan. Messed him up a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He lost someone. And I think it was a little too much for him, every time I went off. We decided to cool it before things got too serious. Well... he did.”

Bucky nodded. “Did... did you sleep with him?”

Steve didn’t glance in Natasha’s direction, but she could see his fair skin coloring up slightly. He nodded.

“I'm not your ‘one and only’ any more, then,” Bucky said softly.

There was a short silence. “I was never your one and only, Buck,” Steve pointed out gently.

Bucky nodded and seemed to be trying to find some way out of the topic. “It kinda threw me, reading the stuff after those pictures of you and him - I knew things had changed but can you imagine _anyone_ just shrugging it off like that in our day?”

Steve shook his head. “It’s still a little weird, to be honest. Part of me still expects somebody out there to say I need to give back the uniform and shield.” He chuckled. “Somebody who matters, I mean.”

“Instead the Army Chief of Staff said guys like us were heroes for serving our country even though we were risking a blue ticket, and gave you a public apology,” Bucky said, his voice slightly disbelieving. “Some guy said it was all the proof anyone needed that Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was a ‘travesty’ - can you imagine how fucking ecstatic we would’ve been if we’d had Don’t Ask Don’t Tell in our time?”

Steve chuckled. “That’s what I kept thinking while I was reading that article, actually. Natasha sent me the link. She sends me links about everything. She says I need to keep informed about my public image, but I think she just likes embarrassing me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t believe you told that kid about the time I snuck into your quarters through the dumbwaiter in Lyon.”

Steve blushed, more deeply this time. “You know that was just supposed to be for a college project. It was historical research.”

“Got bigger than you thought, didn’t it?” Bucky said, amused.

“The kid who interviewed me just got offered an internship at The Advocate.”

“Good for him.”

“I got a lot of mail. Some of it was, uh, unexpected.”

Bucky frowned. “Bad?”

“No, good. A little, uh, too good.”

Bucky got it, and laughed out loud. “Come on. I remember some of what you got in the War from girls. Just because it’s guys now--”

“Actually a lot of it’s still from girls,” Steve said sheepishly.

“Really?”

“They, uh... Tony had said we had fangirls? They’re, wow. Some of what they wrote about, I had to look up.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed, and Natasha looked away again, switching her earpiece off.

She glanced around the cafe briefly. It was still fairly empty, barely more than a handful of other patrons, mostly focused on their coffees and devices, though one man had a newspaper and one teenage couple seemed to be making eye contact despite the phones in their hands. Probably on a first date, then. As she watched, the girl flicked a glance over the other customers and paused on Steve for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly in puzzlement before returning to the boy in front of her.

Natasha looked down, scanning past a list of HYDRA scientists who had been connected with the biological weapons research lab in Hoboken, which the Avengers were going to target next. Tony was in charge of getting through the lab’s defenses, but if she could track down some of their personal connections, she might be able to get them in through a back door...

About twenty minutes later, she looked up and switched on her earpiece again.

“They never did find out,” Steve was saying. “It wouldn’t have helped anything; just put a lot of people in an awkward position. Probably made them look bad, when they were just doing what they thought was right.”

“Thanks,” said Bucky, and she had no idea what it was about. She could probably look it up in a transcript somewhere. She probably wouldn’t.

She switched the sound back off and glanced around the cafe. The man with the newspaper was gone; a couple of mothers with small babies had come in, and the teenage couple had finished a piece of pie between them and were gazing at each other besottedly. Ah, young love.

Natasha looked back down and continued reading and making notes, following one particular scientist who apparently had a bit of a drinking problem - excellent, they might be able to use that - until it was almost time for her to take Bucky back to his base.

“...can’t be seen in public with me,” Bucky was saying. “I don’t know what Natasha was thinking.”

“Why not?”

Bucky snorted. “Steve, don’t be naive. You think there wouldn’t be speculation all over the internet if you were seen with me? For all we know, right now somebody in this cafe could be taking a selfie with us in it and uploading it--”

There was a small pause. “Buck. If you’re gonna want me to hide anything, then maybe you shouldn’t move to Washington.”

Bucky paused. “What?”

Steve hesitated, and Natasha could feel him choosing his words. “Buck, if we did spend time together...” He trailed off and Natasha glanced over at him. He looked nervous but determined. “Whatever happened, I wouldn’t want it to happen if we had to hide.”

“Seriously? I’m a known terrorist and serial killer. I’m--”

“You’re allowed out. You’re allowed to have a life and friends and--”

“With this thing on me,” Bucky said impatiently, gesturing to his anklet. “Reporting in, every day. Maybe for the rest of my life.”

Steve nodded. “I know. And I don’t care. I won’t hide. If we’re together, as friends or anything else, I’m not gonna hide.”

“What do you mean, as anything else?” There was a charged silence. “You... you still feel the same way?” Bucky said slowly.

Steve shook his head fondly. “Christ, Buck.”

Bucky ducked his head. “Thought maybe you’d change your mind.”

“Nope.” Steve cleared his throat. “You?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nope.” He swallowed. “I thought you only felt that way because of who I was before. I thought after you got away from me...”

“That was true at first,” Steve admitted. “I kept looking at you and seeing the parts of who you were, and sort of hung on to them.” He paused. “And that wasn’t fair to you. But I had a lot of time to think about it after leaving. And... who you are today...” He leaned forward. “You fought so damn hard against everything that was done to you. You tried so hard to get better in spite of everything. Just because you aren’t the same as before doesn’t mean that I feel any differently.”

Natasha looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. This wasn’t really meant for her to see or hear. But it was almost time for her to take Bucky back, and she didn’t want to barge in on the middle of something that sounded delicate...

“And... I don’t need you, Bucky,” Steve said gently. “I won't die without you.” He paused. “I’d rather be with you, though.”

There was a long silence.

“But only out in the open,” Bucky confirmed.

“I won’t hide and sneak around for anybody. Not even for you.”

“What if I said no?”

“It would hurt. I don’t want you to. But it’s your choice. I won’t spend the rest of my life alone and mourning you. You didn’t, all those times we were apart before the War.”

Bucky snorted. “You don’t think the dozens of dames I slept with back then was enough to show me that I didn’t _want_ anybody else?”

“Mighta been ‘cause they were girls,” Steve pointed out.

“You spent most of our time pushing me at dames before; if you’re gonna start pushing me at fellas it’s gonna be hard to not to feel like you’re pushing me away on purpose--”

Steve chuckled. “Buck. I don’t want you to. I’m giving you the option and hoping like hell that you don’t take it.”

“Really?”

“I can be happy without you,” said Steve. “I don't _need_ you.” He paused. “I still want you, though,” he said softly. “All the mess and all the trouble that'll come if anyone sees me with you, all the scandal of me going out with a serial killer, the fact that you have to be monitored - it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Still?” Bucky sounded skeptical.

“You sent me away because you thought I was too wrapped up in you, right? And you were probably right. It was hard.” He paused. “I went... pretty low for a while. But I got back up.”

“I'm not--”

“You're not who you were, and I know that.” He took a deep breath. “And if we were together again, no amount of Captain America glamor would make it OK to a lot of people. It might get nasty. But it was nastier having people find out in our day, right? And we lived through it, and it wasn’t so bad.”

“You’re a punk,” said Bucky hollowly. “You could have a normal life, Steve. With someone like Lee. Someone who - I mean, you're never gonna have a wedding and a white picket fence and kids. Not with me.”

“Who says I want any of that?” said Steve patiently. Natasha looked up. He was leaning forward, gazing at Bucky earnestly. “Even when I had nothing, I had you. Right? I'd be OK with having nothing again. We've both been there. It's better to have nothing together.” He tilted his head to the side. “Buck. Don’t choose for me.”

There was a long pause before Bucky nodded cautiously. “If we did...” he said slowly. “If we did, we can’t just jump back to what we were.”

“No. We’re different people,” Steve agreed. “But we've got time to figure it out.”

“A lot of time,” said Bucky. “You and me don't seem to age.”

“I don't want to waste time that we could have together,” said Steve, and hesitantly reached out to take Bucky’s hand in his. “But... I’d wanna go slow.”

“Slow?” said Bucky, brow furrowed slightly.

“Like, dating.”

Bucky shook his head, bemused. “You and me never really did that.”

“No.” Steve gave him a small smile. “I’d never done it at all, before Lee.”

Bucky nodded.

“I’m talking glacial-slow, Buck,” said Steve ruefully. “It’s... taken me a while to get my head on straight after everything.”

“And out in the open.”

“Has to be,” said Steve.

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s not negotiable. I’m sorry.”

Bucky swallowed, then was silent for a long moment. “OK.”

There was a long silence as they both looked down at their clasped hands, and then Steve rubbed the top of Bucky’s hand with his thumb and cleared his throat.

“So... you wanna start?” he asked Bucky with a small smile.

“What, and give Natasha a heart attack?” asked Bucky with a grin. He flicked his gaze over to Natasha, who rolled her eyes and pointedly looked down at her pad.

“She’ll be fine,” said Steve, and there was silence over the monitor. Natasha finished saving her notations and looked up to see Steve and Bucky exchanging a kiss. The kiss was gentle and hesitant, but from all the way at the other end of the cafe Natasha could almost feel the wonder and relief in both of them, in the way Bucky’s hand came to Steve’s hair and paused before he tangled his fingers in the blond strands, in the way that Steve stroked the line of Bucky’s jaw and then cupped Bucky’s cheek in his palm.

How exactly this qualified as slow, she wasn’t sure, but maybe Steve just meant that they wouldn’t have sex in the booth of the cafe. She glanced around the cafe. Nobody else seemed to have noticed, but the pair of teenagers were gaping at them in shock, and the girl slowly raised her phone to take a picture before the boy quickly grabbed it. He shook his head and whispered something to her, and she smiled slightly, then nodded and put the phone down. Glancing at Steve and Bucky again, they turned back to one another, a small smile playing on the girl’s lips.

Then Steve made a small sound in his throat and Bucky backed off, startled, eyes wide. “Sorry! Sorry, I--”

“No,” Steve huffed a small laugh, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He pulled Bucky close again, rested his forehead against Bucky’s and took a deep, shaking breath. “It’s - you didn’t do anything wrong.” He took another breath. “Just wanna go slow, OK? And that’s not slow.”

“I’m just following your lead,” said Bucky.

“Don’t,” said Steve wryly. “I’m an idiot.” He gazed at Bucky seriously. “And I... I really, really don’t wanna fuck this up.”

All right, it was time to go. She stood and walked up to them, and cleared her throat. They slowly turned to look at her - both of them, she noted with amusement, still looking slightly dazed.

“Come on,” she said to Bucky. “It’s time to go back to the base.” She turned to Steve. “Are you coming with us? To help him get settled in?”

Steve looked at Bucky. “Do you want me to?”

Bucky thought for a minute, then gave Steve a grin and took his hand. He stood up. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of it. There's still a one-shot extra I might post, set during chapter 9, but for now, the story's done.
> 
> Yes, it's deliberately vague at the end. My die-hard-shipper heart wants to believe that after a lot work, possibly involving couple's therapy, they figure themselves out and end up together, because they deserve their happily-ever-after. My realist side knows there's about a thousand things that could go wrong... but hopes that if they didn't manage to make things work together, they would both still be able to go on with their lives instead of ending up shattered.
> 
> I'm sticking with the shipper side, personally. You can pick whichever side you'd like :)


End file.
